just an update

Nice oddball time for me to be writing. The store is pretty well covered for a change, without me needing to be there. Of course the rest of this week looks like I’ll be there a lot. It all ends Sunday tho, so that is okay. Monday was pretty crazy. I was back & forth a few times filling in gaps. So as a store we have made just over 7000 dollars so far. Unfortunately, when you unevenly divide that by 12, it sucks. My personal sales are less than half of last year. I’m just amazed tho that as a store we have presented ourselves so well. The public is so excited to have us here, they all want us to always be here. Well, the mall is no place for people like us, with their rules. We will be looking for something as a stand-alone shop.

I keep mentioning that so much is changing in my life. It’s hard to know where to start to put those things on paper (or computer). Right now I’m waiting for the hubby to get home so we can shower together & maybe even splurge for a cheap dinner out to get some alone time. We’ll see. Not sure how much I can get into things until he’s home.

Many people know that my views on things, on life & everything around us, is different than most. Lately it has been changing more rapidly. My views, my thoughts, are all growing & changing so fast. My eyes are opening wider & wider. Some of it scares the crap out of me. Some of it makes other things make so much more sense. Of course, they are still just my views, which we are all entitled to. A lot of things are based on facts, but a lot are also based on spirit & belief. I think as the New Year begins, I will attempt to venture down that road on writing to share my thoughts, my spirit, & my findings, with all of you. I tried once before to have a spiritual journal. Never went anywhere. I think that was the groundwork for now. I have already begun one on here.

And the hubby is home. Insert gap. So we got a nice shower together ………. But we opted for dinner at home. I’m distracted now tho so anymore stuff will have to wait.

Yule

Yule is almost upon us. This evening as a matter of fact. From a friend on MySpace comes the following info. Thanks David.

Yule, (pronounced EWE-elle) is when the dark half of the year relinquishes to the light half. Starting the next morning at sunrise, the sun climbs just a little higher and stays a little longer in the sky each day. Known as Solstice Night, or the longest night of the year, much celebration was to be had as the ancestors awaited the rebirth of the Oak King, the Sun King, the Giver of Life that warmed the frozen Earth and made her to bear forth from seeds protected through the fall and winter in her womb. Bonfires were lit in the fields, and crops and trees were "wassailed" with toasts of spiced cider.

Children were escorted from house to house with gifts of clove spiked apples and oranges which were laid in baskets of evergreen boughs and wheat stalks dusted with flour. The apples and oranges represented the sun, the boughs were symbolic of immortality, the wheat stalks portrayed the harvest, and the flour was accomplishment of triumph, light, and life. Holly, mistletoe, and ivy not only decorated the outside, but also the inside of homes. It was to extend invitation to Nature Sprites to come and join the celebration. A sprig of Holly was kept near the door all year long as a constant invitation for good fortune to pay visit to the residents.

The ceremonial Yule log was the highlight of the festival. In accordance to tradition, the log must either have been harvested from the householder's land, or given as a gift... it must never have been bought. Once dragged into the house and placed in the fireplace it was decorated in seasonal greenery, doused with cider or ale, and dusted with flour before set ablaze be a piece of last years log, (held onto for just this purpose). The log would burn throughout the night, then smolder for 12 days after before being ceremonially put out. Ash is the traditional wood of the Yule log. It is the sacred world tree of the Teutons, known as Yggdrasil. An herb of the Sun, Ash brings light into the hearth at the Solstice.

A different type of Yule log, and perhaps one more suitable for modern practitioners would be the type that is used as a base to hold three candles. Find a smaller branch of oak or pine, and flatten one side so it sets upright. Drill three holes in the top side to hold red, green, and white (season), green, gold, and black (the Sun God), or white, red, and black (the Great Goddess). Continue to decorate with greenery, red and gold bows, rosebuds, cloves, and dust with flour.

Deities of Yule are all Newborn Gods, Sun Gods, Mother Goddesses, and Triple Goddesses. The best known would be the Dagda, and Brighid, the daughter of the Dagda. Brighid taught the smiths the arts of fire tending and the secrets of metal work. Brighid's flame, like the flame of the new light, pierces the darkness of the spirit and mind, while the Dagda's cauldron assures that Nature will always provide for all the children.

Symbolism of Yule:
Rebirth of the Sun, The longest night of the year, The Winter Solstice, Introspect, Planning for the Future.

Symbols of Yule:
Yule log, or small Yule log with 3 candles, evergreen boughs or wreaths, holly, mistletoe hung in doorways, gold pillar candles, baskets of clove studded fruit, a simmering pot of wassail, poinsettias, Christmas cactus.

Herbs of Yule:
Bayberry, blessed thistle, evergreen, frankincense holly, laurel, mistletoe, oak, pine, sage, yellow cedar.

Foods of Yule:
Cookies and caraway cakes soaked in cider, fruits, nuts, pork dishes, turkey, eggnog, ginger tea, spiced cider, wassail, or lamb's wool (ale, sugar, nutmeg, roasted apples).

Incense of Yule:
Pine, cedar, bayberry, cinnamon.

Colors of Yule:
Red, green, gold, white, silver, yellow, orange.

Stones of Yule:
Rubies, bloodstones, garnets, emeralds, diamonds.

Activities of Yule:
Caroling, wassailing the trees, burning the Yule log, decorating the Yule tree, exchanging of presents, kissing under the mistletoe, honoring Kriss Kringle the Germanic Pagan God of Yule

Spellworkings of Yule:
Peace, harmony, love, and increased happiness.

Deities of Yule:
Goddesses-Brighid, Isis, Demeter, Gaea, Diana, The Great Mother. Gods-Apollo, Ra, Odin, Lugh, The Oak King, The Horned One, The Green Man, The Divine Child, Mabon.

Busy

I found enough to keep me busy yesterday at the mall. It was pretty boring, but the time went by. Our daily sales totals are increasing which is nice. My personal sales are still crap compared to last year tho.

I made a post earlier about giving away free stuff. Well, they came & got it. I’m glad to have it out of the garage. If it weren’t so danged cold, I’d try to organize out there a bit. Who knows what else I might find to unload.

I’m wondering if we’ll even get to do photo cards this year. It finally snowed last week, but we have yet to have time to go out & take a fun picture of us. I’m hoping for this weekend. So, they might be late, but nothing wrong with that huh? I guess they could be Happy New Year cards instead. Since I can’t afford to send gifts to people, I really would like to send cards. We’ll see if it all comes together.
What else is new? Remember all the crap with hubby’s mom & step dad over vacation? (I don’t remember if I wrote it all out or not) Well, it goes to show things have not healed for the holidays. His mom made a comment when she called to say she was sorry. She said nothing would ever come between him & her. Never mind his wife. Or family. So she asked what he wanted for Christmas. Not a word about me or Connie, just him. He told her he’d love a Lowe’s gift card. Easy for her. Cheap shipping. So it came the other day. Addressed to only him. But inside were Wal-Mart cards for me and Connie in the amount of $25 each. His Lowe’s card? $200. He was so pissed at the 25 for me. Not so much Connie, but his wife. He said he almost felt like sending them all back. It’s not like they hurt for money at all. It’s just another knife in the wound. Just another confirmation that the words that were spoken during the argument were true.

On a different note, I’ve been wondering what the New Year has in store for me. For my family. For my business. Lots of thoughts so far, but not too many answers. It depends so much on money. Unfortunately. There are some possibilities of things that could happen. Things that might make for a bit of relief for us financially. Things that might change our way of life for a bit. Nothing concrete tho. Just talk right now.

Well, since I can’t shower, do laundry or dishes, I guess I should go run a couple errands. One of them I can’t do tho, until I have a last name. I was part of the Secret Santa we did with our Etsy group. But the lady I got, only gave her first name. And within her shop, there is no evidence of her last name anywhere. So why can’t I do stuff? Because of the frigid temps, our pipes froze. I totally did not think to leave the faucets dripping. We have water in the front bathroom sink & our bathroom sink (cold only). Front shower has no water. Our shower has only cold water. Kitchen has no water. Lovely huh? Let’s hope they unfreeze soon. Sometime today would be nice. At least we can flush the toilet. And we can heat water to take a wash cloth bath. LOL that should be fun for the hubby.

Well, off I go for now.

Quality vs. Quantity

A friend posted this. She got it from the Daily Om. I like it a lot. It really does speak of life these days for many people. I would like to think i strive to be more along the Quality line than the Quantity line. I'm working on it, that's for sure.

We live in an age of quantity. The media shapes us with the notion that larger, faster, and more are often synonymous with better. We are told that we need to find more time, more possessions, and more love to be truly happy. A smaller quantity of anything that is high in quality will almost always be more satisfying. A single piece of our favorite chocolate or a thin spread of freshly made preserves can satisfy us more than a full bucket of a product that we aren't very fond of. Similarly, one fulfilling experience can eclipse many empty moments strung together. It is not the quantity of time that matters, but the quality that you experience during each moment. Every minute is an opportunity to love yourself and others, develop confidence and self-respect, and exhibit courage.

Ultimately, quality can make life sweeter. When you focus on quality, all your life experiences can be meaningful. A modest portion of good, healthy food can nourish and satisfy you on multiple levels and, when organically grown, nourish the earth as well. Likewise, a few hours of deep, restful slumber will leave you feeling more refreshed than a night's worth of frequently interrupted sleep. A few minutes spent with a loved one catching up on the important details about family, work, or community can carry more meaning than two hours spent watching television together.

Often, in the pursuit of quantity we cheat ourselves of quality. Then again, quantity also plays a significant role in our lives. Certain elements, such as hugs, kisses, abundance, and love, are best had in copious amounts that are high in quality. But faced with the choice between a single, heartfelt grin and a lifetime of empty smiles, most would, no doubt, choose the former. Ultimately, it is not how much you live or have or do but what you make of each moment that counts.

Sex or sleep? LOL

Wow, the price one pays for some good sex late at night is dragging ass the next morning. Well, only if you have to be up before you’ve had a good 8 hours sleep. It was after midnight when we finally got to sleep. The hubby had to be up at 530. He slept in til 610. So he woke me up to take the dog out because he didn’t have time. It’s about 0 degrees out around here right now. So I took her out & promptly went back to bed. For an hour. Then I found myself hitting the snooze a couple times. Damn.

And why do I have to be up at 730? Because the damned mall opens at 9 now instead of 10. Which, by the way, it totally dumb. We also stay open til 10pm. We have enough trouble finding something to do until 9 during the week because people stop coming at around 8. And to top it off, our people are getting skimpy on the hours so now we have chunks of time where only one person is there. And it’s already been me… man is it boring to not have someone to talk to.

Today I have to be there at 9. I’m there alone till 2, when Amy comes in & I leave. She’s there alone til 6, when Connie comes in. I know one thing for sure, when it comes time to share the consignment money we’ve made, not everyone will get a piece of the pie. Only those who have made a big effort to make sure the store runs.

So anyways, I’m off to get ready. Gotta figure out what to bring with me to keep me occupied for 5 hours. Because we all know nobody goes shopping on a Monday morning.

Started last night, finished this morning . . .

So here it is almost half way thru December already & I haven’t written anything yet. I guess I’ve been a bit preoccupied with all the store stuff. I’m pretty happy with the turnout as a whole. We’re doing well as a store, just not as good individually. Obviously some are doing better than others, but in all, we could all be doing better. The possibility of having a real store somewhere is there. Whether or not I can make it happen, is another story all together.

Something else that has come up is saving money in these times. A big way we (me, hubby & Connie) can do that is to live with another family. Amy’s family. We’ve talked about combining our households to save money. So, the hunt for a big house to rent is underway. If the right place presents itself, we all feel it might just work. But, it has to be the right place. There has to be enough room. We’ve already figured out a lot of the details too. All on paper of course. Making it happen, will be a tough job, but with a good reward for us all.

There’s lots going on in my head lately that I just can’t seem to find words for so I have not written about them. Kinda bugs me too, since I enjoy this writing as a tool to look back on.

And then enter a time gap. It’s now 12 hours later. Got distracted last night & then had to go close the mall. Came home & had some dessert & watched a little TV before crashing in bed at just after 10.

This past week I installed Office 2007 on both my computer & the hubby’s. It’s neat. And weird. The new Outlook is taking a bit of getting used to. He is using it for the new program called Groove. I kinda like the new look of the Word thing but as with all new things, it takes some getting used to.

It finally snowed on Friday. Not a lot, but the world is now dusted white. This is late for around here. Typically we have some snowfall by the end of November. We might get more today, or not. Depends on how the temps are. I’m hoping it puts people in the holidays shopping mood so we can make some money at the mall.

I made the mistake of seeing what my sales were up to last night. Ouch. Barely over 400. I should be well over the 1000 mark by now. Damn. Now there is a true sign of the times. As a store we hit the 3 grand mark tho so that is kinda cool. I also have to wonder tho, if part of the problem is being just a part of a store instead of single like a crafter. My stuff is just mixed in with everyone else. Same goes for everyone else. Would we have made more money individually if we had better individual displays? Maybe, maybe not. We are also not using any hard sell tactics. We help people when they appear to need it & are otherwise just friendly, striking up conversation if appropriate. Who knows right? If there is the perfect answer to this, I’m sure it would cost a fortune to find out.

Well, I should stop so I can go open the mall soon. This begins our longer hours. What a pointless thing to do. We now open at 9 instead of 10 and stay open until 10 instead of 9. We barely have any people between 8 & 9 as it is now. And we don’t do much if any business before 11. And Sunday . . . we open at 10 & stay open until 7. Again, pointless for around here. Unless they really push it in advertising, we’ll be open longer, bored longer without any extra sales to show of it.

And off I go to eat something real quick, get dressed & run down to the mall.

Christmas? Yule? What???

Twice borrowed ... here is a lengthy story but interesting none the less. I'm not fully sure what exactly my views are on it yet. If anyone reads this, comments are welcome.

Borrowed, from another group

Five minutes before the Winter Solstice circle was scheduled to
begin, my mother called. Since I'm the only one in our coven who
doesn't run on Pagan Standard Time, I took the call. Half the people
hadn't arrived, and those who had wouldn't settle down to business
for at least twenty minutes.

"Merry Christmas, Frannie."

"Hi, Mom. I don't do Christmas."

"Maybe not–but I do, so I'll say it." she told me in her sassy voice,
kind of sweet and vinegary at the same time. "If I can respect your
freedom of religion, you can respect my freedom of speech." I
grinned and rolled my eyes. "And the score is Mom -one, Fran -
nothing. But I love you, anyway."

People were bustling around in the next room, setting up the altar,
decking the halls with what I considered excessive amounts of holly
and ivy, and singing something like, "O, Solstice Tree."

"It sounds like a…holiday party." Mom said.

"We're doing Winter Solstice tonight."

"Oh. That's sort of like your version of Christmas, right?"

I wanted to snap back that Christmas was the Christian version of
Solstice, but I held back.

"We celebrate the return of the sun. It's a lot quieter than
Christmas. No shopping sprees, no pine needles and tinsel on the
floor, and it doesn't wipe me out. I remember how you had always
worked yourself to a frazzle by December 26."

"Oh honey, I loved doing all that stuff. I wouldn't trade those
memories for all the spare time in the world. I wish you and Jack
would loosen up a little for the baby's sake. When you were little,
you enjoyed Easter bunnies and trick-or-treating and Christmas
things. Since you've gotten into this Wicca religion, you sound a lot
like Aunt Betty the year she was a Jehovah's Witness."

I laughed nervously. "Yeah. How is Aunt Betty?"

"Fine. She's into the Celestine Prophecy now, and she seems quite
happy. Y know," she went on, "Aunt Betty always said the Jehovah's
Witnesses said those holiday things were Pagan. So I don't see why
you've given them up."

"Uh, they've been commercialized and polluted beyond recognition.
We're into very simple, quiet celebrations. "

"Well," she said dubiously, "as long as you're happy."

Sometimes long distance is better than being there, 'cause your
mother can't give you the look that makes you agree with everything
she says. Jack rescued me by interrupting.

"Hi, Ma." he called to the phone as he waved a beribboned sprig of
mistletoe over my head. Then he kissed me, one of those quick noisy
ones. I frowned at him.

"Druidic tradition, Fran. Swear to Goddess."

"Of course it is. Did the Druids use plastic berries?"

"Always. We'll be needing you in about five minutes."

"Okay. Gotta go, Mom. Love you."

We had a nice, serene kind of Solstice Circle. No jingling bells or
filked-out Christmas Carols. Soon after the last coven member left,
Jack was ready to pack it in.

"The baby's nestled all snug in her bed," he said with a yawn, "I
think I'll go settle in for a long winter's nap."

I heaved a martyred sigh. He grinned unrepentantly, kissed me, called
me a grinch, and went to bed. I stayed up and puttered around the
house, trying to unwind. I sifted through the day's mail, ditched
then flyers urging us to purchase all the Seasonal Joy we could
afford or charge. I opened the card from his parents. Another
sermonette: a manger scene and a bible verse, with a handwritten note
expressing his mother's fervent hope that God's love and Christmas
spirit would fill our hearts in this blessed season. She means well,
really. I amused myself by picking out every Pagan element I could
find in the card.

When the mail had been sorted, I got up and started turning our
ritual room back into a living room. As if the greeting card had
carried a virus, I found myself humming Christmas carols. I turned on
the classic rock station, but they were playing that Lennon-Ono
Christmas song. I switched stations. The weatherman assured me that
there was only a twenty percent chance of snow. Then, by Loki, the
deejay let Bruce Springsteen insult my ears crooning, "yah better
watch out, yah better not pout." I tried the Oldies station. Elvis
lives, and he does Christmas songs. Okay, fine. We'll do classical ~
no, we won't. They're playing Handel's Messiah. Maybe the community
radio station would have something secular humanist. "Ahora,
escucharemos a Jose Feliciano canta ..Feliz Navidad'."

I was getting annoyed. The radio doesn't usually get this saturated
with holiday mush until the twenty-fourth.

"This is too weird." I said to the radio, "Cut that crap out."

The country station had some Kenny Rogers Christmas tune, the first
rock station had gone from John and Yoko's Christmas song to Simon
and Garfunkel
s "Silent Night," and the other rock station still had Springsteen
reliving his childhood. "–I'm tellin' you why. Santa Claus is comin'
to town!" he bellowed.

I was about to pick out a nice secular CD when there was a knock at
the door Now, it could have been a coven member who'd forgotten
something.

It could have been someone with car trouble. It could have been any
number of things, but it certainly couldn't have been a stout guy in
a red suit–snowy beard, rosy cheeks, and all–backed by eight reindeer
and a sleigh I blinked, wondered crazily where Rudolph was, and
blinked again. There were nine reindeer. Our twenty-percent chance of
snow had frosted the dead grass and was continuing to float down in
fat flakes.

"Hi, Frannie." he said warmly, "I've missed you."

"I'm stone cold sober, and you don't exist."

He looked at me with a mixture of sorrow and compassion and sighed
heavily. "That's why I miss you, Frannie. Can I come in? We need to talk."

I couldn't quite bring myself to slam the door on this vision,
hallucination or whatever. So I let him in, because that made more
sense then letting all the cold air in while I argued with someone
who wasn't there.

As he stepped in, a thought crossed my mind about various entities
needing an invitation to get in houses. He flashed me a smile that
would melt the polar caps.

"Don't you miss Christmas, Frannie?"

"No." I said flatly, "Apparently you don't see me when I'm sleeping
and waking these days. I haven't been Christian for years."

"Oh, now don't let that stop you. We both know this holiday's older
than that. Yule trees and Saturnalia and here-comes-the- sun,
doodoodendoodoo. "

I raised an eyebrow at the Beatles reference, then gave him my
standard sermonette on the appropriation and adulteration that made
Christmas no longer a Pagan holiday. I had done my homework. I listed
centuries, I named names–St. Nicholas among them.

"In the twentieth century version," I assured him, "Christmas is two
parts crass commercialism mixed with one part blind faith in a
religion I rejected years ago." I gave him my best lines, the ones
that had convinced my coven to abstain from Christmassy cliches. My
hallucination sat in Jack's favorite chair, nodding patiently at me.

"And you," I added nastily,"come here talking about ancient customs
when you–in your current form–were invented in the nineteenth century
by, um… Clement C. Moore."

He laughed, a rolling, belly-deep chuckle unlike any department-store
Santa I'd ever heard.

"Of course I change my form now and then to suit fashion. Don't you?
And does that stop you from being yourself?" He said, and asked me if
I remembered Real Magic, by Isaac Bonewits.

I gaped at him for a moment, then caught myself. "This is like
..Labyrinth', right? I'm having a dream that pretends to be real, but
is only made from pieces of things in my memory. You don't look a
thing like David Bowie."

"Bonewits has this Switchboard Theory." Santa went on amiably, "The
energy you put into your beliefs influences the real existence of the
archetypal–oh let me put it simpler: ..in the beginning, Man created
God'. Ian Anderson."

He lit a long-stemmed pipe. The tobacco had a mild and somehow
Christmassy smell, and every puff sent up a wreath of smoke. "I'm
afraid it's a bit more complicated than Bonewits tells it, but that's
close enough for mortals. Are you with me so far?"

"Oh, sure." I lied as unconvincingly as possible.

Santa sighed heavily.

"When's the last time you left out hot tea and cookies for me?"

"When I figured out my parents were eating them."

"Frannie, Frannie. Remember pinda balls, from Hinduism?"

"Rice balls left as offerings for ancestors and gods."

"Do Hindus really believe that the ancestors and gods eat pinda balls?"

"All right, y'got me there. They say that spirits consume the
spiritual essence, then mortals can have what's left."

"Mm-hm." Santa smiled at me compassionately through his snowy beard.

I rallied quickly. "What about the toys? I know for a fact they
aren't made by you and a bunch of non-union Elves."

"Oh, that's quite true. Manufacturing physical objects out of magical
energy is terribly expensive and breaks several laws of Nature–She
only allows us to do that on special occasions. It certainly couldn't
be done globally and annually. Now, the missus and the Elves and I
really do have a shop at the North Pole. Not the sort of thing the
Air Force would ever find. What we make up there is what makes this
time a holiday, no matter what religion it s called."

"Don't tell me," I said, rolling my eyes, "you make the sun come back."

"Oh my, no. The solar cycle stuff, the Reason For The Season, isn't
my department. My part is making it a holiday. We make a mild, non-
addictive psychedelic thing called Christmas spirit. Try some."

He dipped his fingers in a pocket and tossed red-gold-green- silver
glitter at me. I could have ducked. I don't know why I didn't. It
smelled like snow, and pine needles, and cedar chips in the
fireplace. It smelled like fruitcake, cornbread savory herbal
stuffing, like that foamy white stuff you spray on the window with
stencils. It felt like a crisp wind, Grandma's hugs fuzzy new
mittens, pine needles scrunching under my slippers. I saw twinkly
lights, mistletoe in the doorway, smiling faces from years gone by.

Several Christmas carols played almost simultaneously in a kind of
medley. I fought my way back to my living room and glared sternly at
the hallucination in Jack's chair.

"Fun stuff. Does the DEA know about this?"

"Oh, Frannie. Why are you such a hard case? I told you it's non-
addictive and has no harmful side effects. Would Santa Claus lie to you?"

I opened my mouth and closed it again.
We looked at each other a while.

"Can I have some more of that glittery stuff?"

"Mmmm. I think you need something stronger. Try a sugarplum."

I tasted rum ball. Peppermint. Those hard candies with the picture
all the way through. Mama's favorite fudge. A chorus line of
Christmas candies danced through my mouth. The Swedish Angel Chimes,
run on candle power, say tingatingatingating . Mama, with a funny
smile, promised to give Santa my letter.

Greeting cards taped on the refrigerator door. We rode through the
tree farm on a straw-filled trailer pulled by a red and green
tractor, looking for a perfect pine. It was so big, Daddy had to cut
a bit off so the star wouldn't scrape the ceiling. Lights, ornaments,
tinsel. Daddy lifted me up to the mantle to hang my stocking. My
dolls stayed up to see Santa Claus, and in the morning they all had
new clothes. Grandma carried in platters with the world's biggest
Christmas dinner. Joey's Christmas puppy chased my Christmas kitten
up the tree and it would have fallen over but Daddy held it while
Mama got the kitten out. Daddy said every bad word there was but he
kept laughing anyway. I sneaked my favorite plastic horse into the
nativity scene between the camels and the donkey. I came back to
reality slowly, with a silly smile on my face and a tickly feeling
behind my eyes like they wanted to cry. The phrase "visions of
sugarplums" took on a whole new meaning.

"How long has it been," Santa asked, "since you played with a nativity set?-

"But it symbolizes–"

"The winter-born king. The sacred Mother and her sun-child. Got a
problem with that? You could redecorate it with pentagrams if you
like, they'll look fine. As for the Christianization, I've heard who
you invoke at Imbolc."

"But Bridgid was a Goddess for centuries before the Catholic Church-
oh." I crossed my arms and tried to glare at him, but failed. "You're
a sneaky old Elf, y'know?"

"The term is ..Jolly Old Elf.' Care for another sugarplum?" I did. I
tasted gingerbread. My first nip of soy eggnog the way the grown-ups
drink it. Fresh sugar cookies, shaped like trees and decked with
colored frosting. Dad had been laid off, but we managed a lot of
cheer. They told us Christmas would be "slim pickings." Joey and I
smiled bravely when Mama brought home that spindly spruce. We loaded
down our "Charlie Brown Christmas Tree" with every light and ornament
it could hold. Popcorn and cranberry strings for the outdoor trees.
Mistletoe in the hall: plastic mistletoe, real kisses. Joey and I
snipped and glued and stitched and painted treasures to give as presents.

We agonized over our "Santa" letters…by now we knew where the goodies
came from, and we tried to compromise between what we longed for and
they thought they could afford. Every day we hoped the factory would reopen.
When Joey's dog ate my mitten, I wasn't brave. I knew that meant I'd get
mittens for Christmas, and one less toy. I cried. On December twenty-fifth we
opened our presents ve-ery slo-wly, drawing out the experience. We
made a show of cheer over our socks and shirts and meager haul of toys.
I got red mittens. We could tell Mama and Daddy were proud of us
for being so brave, because they were grinning like crazy.

"Go out to the garage for apples." Mama told us, "We'll have apple pancakes.

I don't remember having the pancakes. There was a dollhouse in the
garage. No mass-produced aluminum thingbut a homemade plywood
dollhouse with wall-papered walls and real curtains and thread-spool
chairs. My dolls were inside, with newly sewn clothes. Joey was on
his knees in front of a plywood barn with hay in the loft. His old
farm implements had new paint. Our plastic animals were corralled in
popsicle stick fences. The garage smelled like apples and hay, the
cement was bone-chilling under my slippers, and I was crying.

My knees were drawn up to my chest, arms wrapped around them. My
chest felt tight, like ice cracking in sunshine. Santa offered me a
huge white handkerchief. When all the ice in my chest had melted, he
cleared his throat He was pretty misty-eyed, too.

"Want to come sit on my lap and tell me what you want for Christmas?"

"You've already given it to me." But I sat on his lap anyway, and
kissed his rosy cheek until he did his famous laugh.

"I'd better go now, Frannie. I have other stops to make, and you have work to do."

"Right. I'd better pop the corn tonight, it strings best when it's stale."

I let him out the door. The reindeer were pawing impatiently at the
moon-kissed new-fallen snow. I'd swear Rudolph winked at me.

"Don't forget the hot tea and cookies."

"Right. Uh, December twenty-fourth, or Solstice, or what?"

He shrugged. "Whatever night you expect me, I'll be there. Eh, don't
wait up Visits like this are tightly rationed. Laws of Nature,
y'know, and She's strict with them."

"Gotcha. Thanks, Santa." I kissed his cheek again. "Happy Holidays."

The phrase had a nice, non-denominational ring to it. I thought I'd
call my parents and in-laws soon and try it out on them.

Santa laid his finger aside of his nose and nodded.

"Blessed be, Frannie."

The sleigh soared up, and Santa really did exclaim something. It
sounded like old German. Smart-aleck Elf.

When I closed the door, the radio was playing Jethro Tull's "Solstice Bells.