I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas:
Turns out that there are people who don't know this classic song. And it is a classic, recorded by Gayla Peevey back in 1953. Click here for the lyrics and to listen to this lovely tune.
Yes, I'm one of those odd ducks who actually prefers winter to summer. Bite me. Oh--that's not in the holiday spirit, is it!
Deck the Halls:
Here is my Christmas cactus, given to me as a hostess gift back in December of 2000. I'm very proud of this cactus. It's the only plant I've ever been able to keep alive. And look--it's thanking me by blooming just at Christmas for the first time since 2005! Or maybe it's applauding the fact that this is the first Christmas ever that I've remembered to water the tree every single day, thus allowing said tree to retain most of its needles at this late date.
All I Want for Christmas
Youngest son doesn't want his two front teeth for Christmas, nor, in all probability, does he want this hat. But as God is my witness, everyone here on Christmas morn will have a handknit item. Except for hubby, who's getting a box of yarn. By the way, when worn, this hat does not look like it has a ruffle. A very good thing for a 10-year-old boy.
And hey--it's knitting content! And hey--it's the last of the knitted Christmas gifts! And hey--that means it's time to knit for MEMEMEMEME!
Have a Holly Jolly Christmas (and a cup of cheer):
A little cranapple juice, a little 7-Up, a little lemonade concentrate, and a bottle of apricot brandy; put it in the freezer for three days; what do you have? Cranberry slush--a very refreshing cup of holiday cheer. Given that the apricot brandy is 35% alcohol, it's safe to say that too much cheer can make you, well, cheerless. As my poor elderly father found out the first time I made this, about five years ago. You see, Grampa isn't much of a drinker. A bottle of beer once or twice in the summer. A tablespoon of wine at Thanksgiving, just to show spirit.
But boy, does Grampa like things flavored with cranberries. And that first year, he guzzled the slush like a frat boy at a kegger. I finally pulled him aside and warned him to slow down, this stuff is potent. Father knows best, of course, so he ignored me. Later that night, we were all going to go out and look at Christmas lights. Grampa went into the mudroom, where we have a boot bench. For some reason, the lid was slightly ajar. He grasped the edges of the lid, tucking his fingers underneath--and sat down.
The creases on his fingers from where the fingers were crunched between the lid and the bench were still there two days later. I suppose it could have been worse; Grampa only has nine fingers, having lost a thumb in a scroll saw accident a few years back.
My brother pulled me aside and said, "I'm worried about Dad. He's suddenly not doing very well."
To which I replied, "Oh, there's nothing wrong with him that a good night's rest, some aspirin and Alka-Seltzer can't fix."
And speaking of good rest...
All is Calm, All is Bright:
OK, bright is pushing it, especially for Teddy (on the left). I hope everyone's holidays leave them as full of peace and contentment as these dogs are.
Merry Christmas, everyone!