
Ahhh.
I am done.
Done with the shopping, done with the decorating, done with the running around. All I have to do from now until Christmas is enjoy the carols on the iPod, tweek my decorations, and wallow in the lovliness of the holiday season. Oh. Well, I do have a few presents to wrap. But I will crank up Chris Isaak singing Blue Christmas and wrap away until I am done. Gosh, I love it when I get to this point in the season. It's all down hill from here darlin'.

A few readers have asked for more pictures of the house, with my decorations, so I am putting a few out there, but seriously, I don't go nuts like a lot of the decorator blogs do. You will not see any burlap Christmas wreaths, and honestly, if I ever show a chalk board ANYTHING, please kill me now. I am not that person.

My daughter and I have been enjoying sitting around, looking at the lights, listening to music, eating soup by the fireplace and checking things off our To Do lists. Last night, we were enjoying an especially relaxing evening when I started taking some photos for this blog post. "You are so not taking my picture" she told me. Ok, I'm not.

I have a few collections: Santas, Snowmen, some glass Christmas trees my mom started me on, some mercury glass, and my husband's serious Chritopher Radko habit, but I haven't really gotten anything new in years, and just keep putting out the old stuff, like old people do.

My little grandaughter Eva met Santa Claus for the first time this weekend. Her daddy took her on a train ride that had Santa as a special passenger to meet all the kids, and she was thrilled. I wish I could show you the expressions on her face. She was joyful, beyond thrilled and full of excitement to actually see Santa with her own eyes. There was no shyness, no trepidation, no hesitation. She embraced him with her arms, heart and soul. That is the reason I love that child so much. She is so full of adventure, courage, enthusiasm and zest for life. What a blessing she is to me. How much she has to offer this world. She will never be one to hang back.

Her favorite Christmas icon, besides the great Santa himself, is Frosty the Snowman. We read the book Frosty the Snowman twenty times a day. She recites the lines of the book along with me. She loves snowman decorations, and especially loves driving in the neighborhood at dusk to scout out Frosty lawn decorations. "Frosty!" she exclaims when she spots one. "Another Frosty" she soon demands, as we go in search of our neighbors Home Depot and Lowe's scores. One of our neighbors has one of those blow up Frostys that is ten feet high, which is quite dramatic, but her favorite is a more subtle Frosty that is surrounded by fake presents in his lawn. "Frosty's house" she declares when we pass him on the street.
It snowed in our neighborhood last weekend. A big snow, that stuck all week. She was sleeping over that night, and when I woke her up to see the winter splendor first thing in the morning, she blearily peered out the window and croaked, "Where Frosty?"

He's right here Honey. Right here.
