Our tree is sparkling with ornaments and lights, and there is plenty of space beneath for whatever booty the red-clad elf chooses to leave. Unfortunately, the space will remain plentiful; the grandkids will not be stopping by to see what has been left for them.
Continue reading A year for the book of memories
The thing I remember most about Christmas was Dad waking us kids up with his shooting at Santa:
“Wait! Stop! DON’T GO! My kids want to meet you.”
Continue reading Wendy Sue and Santa