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hey, buttercrunch. so, picture this… it’s christmas eve at my grandparents’ house, circa maybe like 1980 or so everyone’s packed in the kitchen, likely getting in the way of my poppy + my mom who are no doubt preparing the smelts + clam sauce + five other fishes for our traditional italian christmas eve feast everyone but me, that is as the story goes, all of a sudden from the kitchen they heard my sweet small voice — maybe i was four or five, and i certainly wasn’t as much of a loudmouth...
hey, cranberry garland. i just finished my holiday shopping! and by finished i mean started, too (except for like 2 teeny things a few weeks ago) and by finished i also mean i still have one gift left to get this year i was ahead of my gift buyjng game, though still way behind according to most i actually had everyone taken care of with 5 whole days to spare this year!!! (wrote that part thursday morning) everyone, that is, except THE one the one that matters the most — the one whose gift i...
hey, pine nut. i feel like my mom musta struck some sorta deal with santa back when i was in my teens, because she was in charge of my stocking she must’ve agreed to load it up herself if he sweetened the stack of presents i found under the tree and one thing about my mom… she doesn’t operate in half measures she would pack that stocking with all sortsa cute little bulky boxes that contained the most beautiful finds from QVC, HSN, and crafts shows where i had helped her sell the glassware she...