I held my breath as Dad said, "Alright girls, here goes!" He reached around to the back of the tree and plugged in the string of lights. They flickered for an instant-causing me to shut my eyes tightly. If they didn't light, it would take hours for him to go through each bulb trying to identify the burned out culprit. When I opened my eyes, the tree was a dazzling display of light and color. The tinsel we had thrown on the tree moments before (even though Mom complained she would still be picking it up at Easter) sparkled brightly among the large multi-colored bulbs. I let out my breath while Julia clapped and Teresa shouted in delight. Christmas Eve had finally arrived.
The three of us sat in front of the fire on our fluffy comforters as the logs crackled and popped. We snacked on cheddar cheese ball with Ritz crackers and drank Mom's special 7-UP punch that fizzed in our mouths like exploding cherries. I reached into the box of chocolates and pulled out a dark square I hoped was an orange creme. There was a small hole poked in the bottom. "Dad," I yelled, "Julia is poking the chocolates again to find the good ones!"
Mom yelled from the kitchen, "Quit squabbling girls! I think it's time to open your present." We scrambled off our comforters and fought for the best spot under the tree. We already knew which present we would open.
I pulled on the ends of the slick silver ribbon and watched it slide to the floor. As I turned the package over and slid my finger under the tape to open the package, the aroma of perfume and memories of my grandmother spilled out along with the pretty pink flannel pajamas. Memories of visits with my Mamma B in Kentucky: playing hide-and-seek in the tall corn, trying to catch fireflies in Mason jars, and hiding out from tornados in the cellar.
I grabbed the pajamas and ran down the hall to my bedroom to quickly change. As I sat back down under the tree, I pulled my legs up to my chest and hugged my knees as I melted into the soft thick flannel. I could almost feel Mamma B's arms around me and hear her whisper, "I love you child."
Outside, the snow fell softly while reports on the radio said Santa was getting closer to Spokane. As I gazed out the window on this magical night, I almost believed it was true.
Merry Christmas!
Di
I strolled lazily through the Puces de Vanves sipping my café latte while munching on a flaky buttery croissant. “Bonjour,” I called out to the old weathered man at the back of the booth. He smiled slightly as I spied a set of battered blue and white kitchen canisters with the words, “Farine”, “Café”, “Sucre” and “Pates” in faded black letters on the front. Trying to contain my excitement I asked nonchalantly, “Combien ça?” (How much is that?). But he was seasoned and saw the tiny twinkle in my eye. He replied back in broken English with a price equal to a week’s salary. I sighed as I bid him and the canisters farewell and moved on to the next booth. I’ve been to this Paris flea market so many times-IN MY DREAMS!
Before going to a play or the opera, you could primp at your faded blue dressing table.
Hello,
Pretty pink shelf, pink striped wallpaper, and pink pots and cups ready to have your best buddy over for tea. One lump or two?
The Eiffel Tower is always romantic!
Vintage pink bulbs shimmer on a silver tree. No, it's not too early for Christmas! 
Hello,
My partner-in-crime and best buddy
