Dear Santa

Guess who? I know I haven’t written in four decades but I figure we had such a close relationship for those ten years back in the 70’s that you’d remember me. I’m the girl you surprised with the 3-foot teddy bear in 1975. He sat under the Christmas tree right next to my new, red Hoppity Hop. Yep, that one.

The reason for this letter is not what you think. I don’t want gifts this year. I have everything I need. What I want is to return for a few moments to the days when you were so prevalent in my life. The days when most everything was still new and possible, when the world was a beautiful, safe place to be, when my worries extended no further than school homework and whether or not I would get my Holly Hobbie playhouse, the days when we anxiously awaited the Rankin-Bass holiday specials that told your story. Did you know that children don’t have to wait for those shows anymore? Now, they can watch whatever they want, whenever they want. Instant gratification. That’s what we do now.


I know I let you go after all you’d done for me. I also know that you expected it. It’s the natural progression: children pass the torch of belief to the next generation who continually keep you alive. I left you in good hands.

I was so happy when we re-connected twenty years later through my babies, who wrote you letters like this one, whose happiness and anticipation overflowed into their sleep on many Christmas Eves awaiting your arrival. What precious years they were. It was good to have you back. They’re teens now and have abandoned you as I did, passing on the torch once again.


I know you’re busy in the minds of countless deserving children, so I won’t take up more of your time. I just want to say, I miss everything you represented, to me and to my sons: unbridled joy, unquestioned belief and hope.

I wish I’d held onto you longer. I wish my children didn’t let you go. I miss you, big guy.

Good luck this year and for years to come. Gone are the days of Hoppity Hops and Holly Hobbie. We’re living in a time of gaming systems with war games and Hoverboards. Your job is getting more difficult.

Perhaps we’ll meet again in another ten or fifteen years. Until then, I wish you well.



P.S. Not for nothing, but don’t you have any pull at all with Snow Miser? His brother is ruining December!




Thank You

Hello Friends,

Five orange pumpkins sit in a row in front of a distressed, wooden background.

Thanksgiving is upon us and I would like to take this opportunity to express my gratitude. Thank you everyone, for sticking with me for two years, for your loyalty and wonderful comments.

I count my blessings every day and now, with the recent tragedies, I hold them close to my heart.

The world can seem like a scary place at times. There is much we cannot control. What we can do is appreciate what we have, spread love and goodwill (it’s so easy really) and not let fear keep us from realizing our dreams.

So, tomorrow as you find your way home, if even only in your hearts, I hope you enjoy the riches on your table, conversation with loved ones, cherished memories of those who have departed, and quiet reflection of  all that it  means to be American.

I’d like to express my condolences to the people of Paris during this difficult time. Paris is my favorite city outside of my own. I’ve walked the cobblestone streets of Montmartre and listened to the french children play in the schoolyard under the shadow of the magnificent Sacre Coeur in my mind over and over. Regardless of what has happened, I will return again to sit at the cafes and soak in her charm.

I wish you all a safe, happy Thanksgiving. See you in December.

As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them. — John Fitzgerald Kennedy

Giving Thanks


Hello Friends,

I had a post all prepared: a few paragraphs talking about all the stuff I’m thankful for this year. It was nice.

I re-read it this morning, and decided not to share it with you.

Why, praytell, would you be interested in what I’m thankful for? Aren’t we all thankful for one thing or another? Do you need to hear how I am grateful for my loved ones, our health, food, shelter, chocolate?? How is this different from anyone else?  

Instead, I decided to share one thought that I feel is important to say. And this is it:

I am thankful to all of you, for reading, following, and taking time to comment on my blog.  I am truly filled with gratitude for your support.

I should take more time from my busy schedule to appreciate what others do, and embrace the abundant joys in my life.  I don’t do it enough, and I certainly shouldn’t wait until the end of each year to recognize all of the gifts in my life. But let’s face it, time flies by and before we know it, here we are, heading into winter (unless you’re in Australia, in which case, you’re getting warmer, but since I have no followers (yet) down under, this doesn’t really pertain), and I’ve let another ten or so months pass by without so much as a beholden note.

I’ll work on that. Maybe we should all work on it. Would be a nicer place to live, wouldn’t it?

We’re going to get busier in the next month, and I will be writing here in December, but I’ll wish you a nice holiday season now – before the craziness sets in. I wish you stress-free, healthy, love and goodwill-filled days, maybe some snow,  some quality family time. Isn’t that what it’s about, after all?

As you run around, shopping, cleaning, and cooking, just remember: it will all get done. Don’t worry. Have an eggnog. Sing a carol.  Light a menorah. Watch a Peanuts special. Enjoy it. The years are fleeting, my friends.

Let’s keep that in mind as we head into the season.

And let’s be thankful.

I am.

Happy Thanksgiving



Body by Chocolate

It’s the same story every year.

I bought Halloween candy too early. Again.

One year, I held off so long, I forgot. The first masked children rang the doorbell, waiting with their bags open, their peeking eyes in anticipatory glee.

I hid in my bedroom, ashamed, until they left. I did this all night.

The following year, I sent my husband out to buy candy on the eve of Halloween. He returned with an obscene amount of full-sized candy bars. “All they had left,”  he told me.

An expensive mistake.  

Since then, I buy it myself, from Costco, in advance.  I suffer the same torture every year.

I sit with the bag, day after day, while I try to work at home. They taunt me – those mini-chocolate hellions: We know you want us…..We can feel it. We see how you look at us when you pass. Come on…just a taste. You know how we make you happy….

Ah! I ask my kids to hide the bag as I remind them of the dangers of drugs; implore them to avoid menacing peers who will coax them to try it…Stay strong! I tell them.

While they’re at school, I search the house for the loot. Where the hell did they put it? I am thinking of all different ways to punish them, as I search through their closets, the basement, kitchen cabinets.

I amass 6 bags of old clothes, unused kitchen items, boots, and toys, and put them aside for the poor.

My house has never been cleaner. Where is that candy?

I find it in the basement toy chest, under a 1200-piece Lego box. 

Should have done a better job. Only took me three hours to find it.

 Last year it took me three and a half.

On Halloween, I pour the candy into our special orange bowl. (I used to have a nice basket, but it was stolen – don’t ask)

My husband looks at it. “Where’s the rest?”

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He peeks into the bowl again. “I thought we bought the 250-pc bag. There isn’t even half of that here.”

I shrug, and walk away. He follows me, not to be deterred.

“Where is the candy?”

I sigh, in defeat.

“Give me a hug, and I’ll show you.”

He can’t. His arms don’t reach around me anymore.

“I see.” He says. “I’ll have a chat with the boys. We’ll work on their creative hiding skills.”

Yeah, good luck with that.