Category Archives: Flash Fiction Friday

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18-Dec-2020

Welcome to today’s installment of Holiday Flash Fiction Friday!

I swear, I can write warm and fuzzy things, but for some reason this combo made me go a bit dark. Again.

Christmas after the Apocalypse

Today’s Flash Fiction Friday is brought to you by:
Watching Favorite Holiday Films
Wooden Christmas Signs
and
Christmas Kibble

I jumped when I heard the scrape of boots on gravel. My heart raced as the footsteps grew closer. It took most of my strength to lift the shotgun and aim it at the doorway of our hovel. The barrel shook.

“Addie?” a familiar voice asked softly. “It’s me.”

Relief pulled the already meager strength from my arms, and the shotgun fell onto my leg.

“Addie?” This time fear laced my name.

“I’m here,” I said softly.

A plank of plywood moved aside with a hiss. Gray light from the sun filtered in, giving me just enough illumination to see Mark’s silhouette.

“Thanks for not shooting me,” he said. I could hear a smile in his words.

An actual smile.

“What did you find?” I made an attempt at pushing myself into a seated position, and mostly failed.

Mark moved to my side and helped. At one point in my life I would have told him not to bother. I weighed too much for anyone to manhandle me, but there wasn’t much left now. His strong hands slid under my shoulders and knees, and he lifted me and put me back down without so much as a grunt.

I knew I looked and smelled wretched, but Mark gave me a kiss anyway. His lips lingered on mine, as they had done so many times now, giving us a brief moment free of the end of the world.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I can’t move my legs.”

He nodded as he lit a candle.

My latest infirmary wasn’t a surprise. It was the natural course of the Conclusion, as people had started calling it even as they had died.

The yellow light hit Mark’s face, giving me a clear view of his square jaw, now covered by a few inches of black beard, his dark eyes, and his lips.

“What are you smiling about?” I asked, unable to keep from smiling myself.

“I found a few things for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

He grinned. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Is it?” I’d stopped counting the days months before.

“It is.” His eyes glittered.

I fought back tears. Christmas had been our thing. A huge tree, lights on the house, Santa on the roof, and nativity out front…I swallowed hard and made sure my voice would be even before I said, “And?”

Mark pushed the plank back in place, and set his pack on the floor. “And we’re going to celebrate.”

I raised my eyebrows.

He pulled a small wooden sign from his pack. It said “Have Yourself A Merry little Christmas” in red and green letters with faded holly designs painted around it. Mark had attached a piece of twine through the holes on the top and hung it from a hook in the ceiling. The words glittered as it turned back and forth.

“Very nice,” I said.

“But wait, there’s more.” He wiggled his eyebrows and reached into his bag again.

I couldn’t help but sit forward. “I didn’t get you anything,” I said.

“This is for both of us.” He pulled a small, black box-ish thing out of his pack. His lips had pulled into an even bigger smile that practically went from ear to ear.

“What is it?” I asked.

Mark opened it to reveal a computer screen.

“You know that won’t work, right?” I asked.

“It’s a DVD player. Fully charged. Still operational.”

A bubble of excitement filled my stomach. “Really?”

“I figure there’s enough juice to watch a couple of movies.”

“We don’t have any movies.” I pointed out.

“We do now.” Mark retrieved a flat, plastic container from his pack and handed it to me.

I opened it to find several old Christmas movies. I let out a gasp. “You actually found The Year Without a Santa Clause?”

“Who’s a good husband?” he asked me.

I grabbed him by the coat, pulled his lips to mine and let him know just how good of a husband he was.

After a breathless minute he let out a contented sigh. “There’s a storm coming.” He gave me another kiss before he stocked our make-shift stove with wood and climbed onto our bed made of wood pallets and shredded blankets.

Right before he put his arm around me, he snapped his fingers. “Forgot, one more thing.”

The crackle of plastic filled the air as he got a package from his bag. He then grabbed a flat board, cuddled up next to me, put the board on our legs and placed the DVD player on top of it. Only then did he show me the package.

“Muddie Buddies?” They had to be well past expired.

“Christmas Kibble,” he said.

“Sort of,” I said.

“Beggars can’t be choosers. Now which movie do you want to watch first?”

“Duh.”

He handed me the Muddie Buddies while he started the show.

It felt strange to be ripping the plastic bag apart. To have food in there simply ready to eat.

The smell of the peanut butter and sugar filled the air, and we both breathed it in.

“Ladies first,” he said.

“You mean I’m the tester to see how bad it is.”

“It’s all in how you look at it.”

I laughed and took a single sugar coated Chex square out and put it in my mouth. Was it stale? Yes. Did I still moan in pleasure? Yes.

Mark gathered me in his arms and we sat and watched the movie and slowly ate the Christmas Kibble.

I couldn’t stop smiling. He must have scavenged for miles to find this stuff. Halfway through Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Mark began to snore. I gently reached into his pocket and pulled out the calendar.

I wouldn’t last until New Years. I felt bad about that.

Then my suspicion was confirmed. Christmas was still two weeks away.

I wouldn’t last until then.

A tear trickled down my cheek, and I lay my head on Mark’s shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered.

Holiday Flash Fiction Categories!

Tradition:

  1. Decorating cookies
  2. Picking out a Christmas Tree
  3. Driving around looking at lights
  4. Staying up until midnight to hear the church bells ring
  5. Going into the woods to cut down your own tree
  6. Watching favorite holiday films
  7. Taking one of the men playing around with the deep fryer (while trying to cook an additional “better” turkey) to the ER for 2nd and 3rd degree burn
  8. PJ pictures on or near the stairs of all the kids Christmas morning
  9. The family sleeping around the Christmas tree the Friday before Christmas
  10. Christmas stockings made by grandma

Object:

  1. A Rabid Snowman
  2. Reindeer
  3. An old nutcracker
  4. Grandma’s crotched snowflakes
  5. Advent Calendar
  6. Krampus’ switch
  7. The heirloom tatted ornament that has been dunked in sugar water, starched, , and modge podged so many times it’s hard to tell what it originally was…(resembles an oblong Easter egg that’s been scrambled) but it’s been out for every Christmas since the oldest family member remembers, it’s tradition
  8. Wooden Christmas signs bought at Ensign
  9. Christmas village on the fireplace
  10. Death Star tree-topper

Food:

  1. Gluten Free Gingerbread
  2. Fruitcake
  3. Cranberry Jell-o Salad
  4. Homemade divinity
  5. Christmas crack chocolate
  6. Christmas Kibble (a cookie that looks like kibble)
  7. Aspic Salad
  8. Wild Rice
  9. Raspberry cream cheese desert
  10. Christmas sugar cookies

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11-Dec-2020

Welcome to today’s installment of Holiday Flash Fiction Friday!

Warning: This might be a crying one for some of you.

Hormones and the Holidays

Today’s Holiday Flash Fiction is brought to you by:
Going into the woods to cut down your tree
Grandma’s crocheted snowflakes
and
Homemade Divinity

“Why isn’t this working?” My wife’s voice shrieks from the kitchen in a tone that I know means she’s about to lose it.

I wince. I’d offered to help make the whatever it was she was making—some candy recipe from her great-grandmother—but she refused, saying she wanted it to be a surprise. When I’d offered to hang out in the kitchen, she banished me.

It wasn’t like her to be this emotional unless it was her time of the month, something I wasn’t allowed to suggest, mind you. One glance at my phone told me that it could be hormones.

Or it could be the fact that she was suddenly trying desperately to make Christmas perfect this year.

A growl comes from my wife, and I sidle up to the doorway that leads into the kitchen. She’s standing over the stove, looking down into a saucepan that may or may not be smoking.

Hopefully it’s just steam from something cooking.

She looks from the pot to the cook book on the counter. “It said to make it a hard ball. How am I supposed to pour a hard ball into the whisked eggs?”

The tremor in her voice is not a good sign.

I have a decision to make. Either I back away slowly, not letting her hear me, and go watch TV, or I can enter the kitchen and steel myself for whatever explosion is about to come out of my wife.

I’m not going to lie, the TV was oh, so tempting. But it was Christmastime, and she was doing this for us. Or something. I took a deep breath and walked through the doorway.

My ankle wails, and I do my best not to limp. If she sees that she’ll go ballistic for sure. “Honey?” I ask.

Her head whips up, and she turns to look at me.

Even in all of her irrational anger she’s beautiful. Curly brown locks have escaped her ponytail and frame her heart-shaped face. Her eyes flash, and her expression hardens, but all I can see is the woman I love in pain. “Everything okay?” I ask.

“No,” she grumbles and returns her gaze to the cookbook.

Melissa doesn’t get this angry very often, so I continue with my cautious approach. “Anything I can do to help?”

She straightens and snorts. “This stupid recipe says to boil the mixture until it’s to hard ball stage. Now it’s a hard ball and I’m supposed to pour it in there?” Her voice rises again. She points to the mixer where I can see a white substance in the bowl.

Guys fix things. It’s what we do. My body moves of its own accord, and I go to the cookbook and read it.

The first time through I’m with my wife, then I notice a little note that’s been added. “Did you boil it until it reached 250 degrees?”

“What? No.”

I point to the recipe.

She pushes me out of the way, reads it, glares, and that’s when her lower lips trembles.

Uh-oh. We’ve skipped the yelling stage and have gone straight to the crying stage.

“Honey.” I put my hand on her back.

That’s all it takes. She lets out a wail and sinks to her knees. The water works turn on, and suddenly I’m kneeling next to her, patting her back. “It’s okay. It’s just candy.”

“Nothing is working!” Now she’s doubled over on herself.

“It’s fine.”

This is apparently the wrong thing to say, because she sits up and glares at me. Impressive, considering she’s still sobbing. “First you sprain your ankle getting the tree.”

I shrug. “Merely a flesh wound.”

“Then my grandma’s crocheted snowflakes.”

“It’s not your fault they’d been put in a yellow box that got wet and now they look like they’ve been peed on.” I meant for it to be a joke. She’d said it herself the day before.

Wrong choice again. Her voice reaches the upper end of shrill. “I’m just trying to give us Christmas traditions.”

So that’s why she’s been so keen on all of this craziness. “We have Christmas traditions. I particularly like our Christmas Eve tradition.” Five years married and I still look forward to seeing my wife in nothing but a couple of bows.

The tears are really flowing now, and she has to sniff before she can speak. “We can’t do that if we have a baby.”

“Sure we can, we…wait. What?” I stare at her. The world stops when she meets my gaze.

“I’m pregnant.”

This announcement puts her into worse hysterics.

I continue to stare as the words sink in. “Really?” We’ve been trying for three years, and decided to stop after a bad experience with a fertility clinic. “Are you sure?”

She nods. “I took three tests.”

Where she seems to be sinking, I’m floating off the floor.

A baby?

Us?

We’re going to be parents?

Joy like I’ve never felt it before fills me, starting from my core and working its way out into my fingers and toes. I’m light as a feather. I’m as warm as a fire.

Then I look at my distraught wife. Doesn’t she want this? I have to know. “Are—are you happy?”

She nods and cries some more.

“Are you sure?”

She looks at me and forces a smile. “I just wanted everything to be perfect. I was going to tell you on Christmas Eve.”

I grin and gather her to me. “Honey, this is amazing news. The best Christmas present ever!”

For a moment she stiffens, then she leans into me. She’s shaking. I enfold her and whisper in her ear. “We’ll make new traditions. Maybe not involving the woods or divinity.”

She laughs.

I laugh.

Then we’re kissing, and all I feel is love for this woman and the baby that will soon be ours.

Holiday Flash Fiction Categories!

Tradition:

  1. Decorating cookies
  2. Picking out a Christmas Tree
  3. Driving around looking at lights
  4. Staying up until midnight to hear the church bells ring
  5. Going into the woods to cut down your own tree
  6. Watching favorite holiday films
  7. Taking one of the men playing around with the deep fryer (while trying to cook an additional “better” turkey) to the ER for 2nd and 3rd degree burn
  8. PJ pictures on or near the stairs of all the kids Christmas morning
  9. The family sleeping around the Christmas tree the Friday before Christmas
  10. Christmas stockings made by grandma

Object:

  1. A Rabid Snowman
  2. Reindeer
  3. An old nutcracker
  4. Grandma’s crotched snowflakes
  5. Advent Calendar
  6. Krampus’ switch
  7. The heirloom tatted ornament that has been dunked in sugar water, starched, , and modge podged so many times it’s hard to tell what it originally was…(resembles an oblong Easter egg that’s been scrambled) but it’s been out for every Christmas since the oldest family member remembers, it’s tradition
  8. Wooden Christmas signs bought at Ensign
  9. Christmas village on the fireplace
  10. Death Star tree-topper

Food:

  1. Gluten Free Gingerbread
  2. Fruitcake
  3. Cranberry Jell-o Salad
  4. Homemade divinity
  5. Christmas crack chocolate
  6. Christmas Kibble (a cookie that looks like kibble)
  7. Aspic Salad
  8. Wild Rice
  9. Raspberry cream cheese desert
  10. Christmas sugar cookies

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4-Dec-2020

Welcome to today’s entry of Holiday Flash Fiction Friday!

Finally, something cute! Also a bit morbid, but that’s not my fault. Look at the tradition I had to work with!

Just because you don’t know what it is, doesn’t make it unimportant.

Today’s Flash Fiction Friday is brought to you by:

Taking one of the men playing around with the deep fryer (while trying to cook an additional “better” turkey) to the ER for 2nd and 3rd degree burns

The heirloom tatted ornament that has been dunked in sugar water, starched, and modge podged so many times it’s hard to tell what it originally was…(resembles an oblong Easter egg that’s been scrambled) but it’s been out for every Christmas since the oldest family member remembers, it’s tradition

and
Cranberry Jell-O salad

The plastic lining the carpet creaked, and Mia wrinkled her nose.

“Mia?” Grandpa asked.

Her mom had made her promise not to talk about the funny smell, so Mia turned away from her movie and smiled. “Hi, Grandpa.”

He smiled back, all the wrinkles in his face moving at once. It looked weird, but Mia liked it.

“Where is everyone?” The arm that rested on his cane trembled.

“The hospital.” Her mom had told her to tell Grandpa not to worry, but she didn’t want to lie to him. His eyes had been sad since Grandma had gone to heaven, and she didn’t want to make him more sad.

“Everyone?”

Mia nodded.

“They left you here?”

“To look after you,” Mia said with sincerity.

Grandpa chuckled. The air rumbled. Mia’s insides warmed. “Well, I’m glad you’re here to look after me.” He grunted and shuffled over to his walker—the one with the wheels and the seat that she liked to play on—and sat. He looked around, as if trying to gather clues about a mystery. Then he looked at Mia. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Well, I don’t know because I’m not allowed to be outside when the turkey is fraying.”

“Frying?”

“Yes.” Mia crossed her arms. “Mommy said Uncle Jasper burned himself and ruined the turkey and she took him and Aunt Lisa to the hospital.”

“Good thing we have another turkey,” Grandpa said. “Didn’t I tell you that deep frying wouldn’t work?”

Mia nodded. “I tried to tell them too, but no one listened.”

“Hmmm.” Grandpa used his feet to pull his rolling walker toward the back window. The plastic on the floor creaked again. “Looks like they left a mess.”

“That’s because the stuffing pan exploded in the kitchen and everyone else went to the hospital because they got glass in their skin.”

Grandpa turned toward Mia and met her eyes with his misty ones. “Exploded?”

“Yup. They told me not to go in the kitchen.” Mia pointed at the plate of crackers and cheese on the little table in front of her. “They said this food was safe but nothing else was and if I ate it I would get glass in my throat and it would rip through my esophagus and I would die.”

“Sounds like your brother talking.”

It had been her brother.

“What else did I miss?” Grandpa asked.

Mia motioned toward the front of the house. “Someone hit Uncle Jasper’s car with theirs.”

“Hmmm…sounds like we have a problem.”

“What problem?”

Grandpa stroked his chin before propelling himself toward the Christmas tree. Mia watched him go, torn between the show she’d seen a bunch of times and what Grandpa was looking for.

He was more interesting, so she stood and went to join him.

“Yes, I’d say we have a problem,” Grandpa said after a moment of inspection.

“What?” Mia took in the mismatched ornaments that were as old as Grandpa, the sparkling tinsel, the multi-colored lights, and the angel on the top.

“Looks like we’re missing an ornament.” He let out a grunt and headed toward the garage. “Come on, Mia, you’re going to have to get it for me.”

Mia’s stomach fluttered. She liked to help.

Grandpa got to the garage door, and Mia yanked it open for him. A blast of cold air made her shiver.

He pointed with his cane. “You see that red bin on the shelf over there?”

“Yes.”

“There should be some more ornaments in it. The one I want is in a small green box that looks like lace. Do you think you can climb up and get it for me?”

“Yes!” The bin was only on the second shelf. She’d climbed to the top the other day to get something for dad. Mia bounded down the stairs and over to the shelf. It only took her a moment to get to the bin and get it open.

It smelled like Grandpa, but also like Grandma. A lump rose in Mia’s throat as she saw some of the decorations she and Grandma had used last year.

“Do you see it?” Grandpa asked.

Mia gently set the lid aside and scooted the contents around.

“It’s green,” Grandpa said.

Mia hadn’t forgotten. A small corner of green lace peeked out from under a larger box. Mia licked her lips and extended her arm as far as it would go. Her fingers touched the small box, but slipped off.

“Mia?”

“I see it.” She made a face and reached again, imagining she was a super hero and could stretch. This time she got a grip and pulled. The contents of the bin shifted, but she was able to get what Grandpa wanted. “This?” She held it up.

“Good girl.”

Mia put the lid back on the bin and climbed down. Grandpa gave her a big smile. She returned it. He hadn’t smiled like that in a while. He stroked the box in his lap.

“What is it?” Mia asked.

Grandpa opened the lid and Mia moved close. He felt warm compared to the garage. Inside sat a white, oval…something.

“This, Mia, is our family’s good luck ornament.”

“That?” It was ugly. Like a little kid trying to draw with really big crayons.

“Yes. Your Grandma used to tell me that we had to hang it on the tree every year or bad things would happen.”

Mia’s eyes went wide. “Bad things did happen.”

“Exactly.”

Mia followed Grandpa back to the tree where he hung the ornament with his trembling hands. It was still ugly, but it looked like it belonged.

“Is there any food left?” Grandpa asked.

“The only safe things were in the fridge.”

Grandpa shuffled to the kitchen and used a broom to clear a path to the fridge. Mia stayed in the doorway. He looked at her. “How do you feel about cranberry Jell-O?”

She made a face.

“Yeah, me either. Let’s start with the pie, shall we?”

Holiday Flash Fiction Categories!

Tradition:

  1. Decorating cookies
  2. Picking out a Christmas Tree
  3. Driving around looking at lights
  4. Staying up until midnight to hear the church bells ring
  5. Going into the woods to cut down your own tree
  6. Watching favorite holiday films
  7. Taking one of the men playing around with the deep fryer (while trying to cook an additional “better” turkey) to the ER for 2nd and 3rd degree burn
  8. PJ pictures on or near the stairs of all the kids Christmas morning
  9. The family sleeping around the Christmas tree the Friday before Christmas
  10. Christmas stockings made by grandma

Object:

  1. A Rabid Snowman
  2. Reindeer
  3. An old nutcracker
  4. Grandma’s crotched snowflakes
  5. Advent Calendar
  6. Krampus’ switch
  7. The heirloom tatted ornament that has been dunked in sugar water, starched, , and modge podged so many times it’s hard to tell what it originally was…(resembles an oblong Easter egg that’s been scrambled) but it’s been out for every Christmas since the oldest family member remembers, it’s tradition
  8. Wooden Christmas signs bought at Ensign
  9. Christmas village on the fireplace
  10. Death Star tree-topper

Food:

  1. Gluten Free Gingerbread
  2. Fruitcake
  3. Cranberry Jell-o Salad
  4. Homemade divinity
  5. Christmas crack chocolate
  6. Christmas Kibble (a cookie that looks like kibble)
  7. Aspic Salad
  8. Wild Rice
  9. Raspberry cream cheese desert
  10. Christmas sugar cookies

  • 0

27-Nov-2020

Welcome to today’s entry of Holiday Flash Fiction Friday!

Once again, things have gone a little dark. Or maybe twisted is a better description.

Rudy the Glowing Red Human

Today’s Flash Fiction Friday is brought to you by:
Decorating Cookies
Reindeer
and
Wild Rice

“Mama, where did all the humans go?”

“We don’t know. They disappeared one Christmas night long ago.”

“The silent night.”

“That’s right.”

“Is this what they really looked like?”

“Well, all we have are a few old depictions, but we do know that this is their general shape. They had a head, a body, two forelegs and two back legs.”

“Did they walk like us?”

“We don’t think so. Our scientists believe they only walked on their back legs.”

“They must have been realllllly tall.”

“Perhaps.”

“Did they have fur?”

“Just on the top of their head.”

“Is that why you put brown frosting right there?”

“Yes.”

“Were they blue?”

“They wore coverings over their skin. Without fur they got very cold.”

“They should have had fur. They probably wouldn’t have died if they’d had fur.”

“I think the coverings are quite clever. Do you remember the story of the silent night?”

“A little. The humans felt sorry for our ancestors, so they said we didn’t have to pull the big red sleigh anymore. Instead, the humans wanted to do it to show how strong they were.”

“And?”

“Could humans fly?”

“No, they could not.”

“Then how did they pull the sleigh? I thought they had machines.”

“The machines had failed, and humans had instead turned to honing their bodies.”

“Honing?”

“Improving.”

“Why?”

“So they could do all the things they liked to do, like build buildings to live in, make coverings for their bodies, play games—”

“Did they play reindeer games?”

“I don’t know.”

“They did. They had to. Reindeer games are the best.”

“What if they had human games?”

“They might be okay. What happened with the sleigh?”

“You see this sleigh?”

“It’s a cookie.”

“So it is. Use your imagination.”

“Okay.”

“After the machines failed, many humans changed their bodies so they could fly. Most died quickly, but some survived.”

“Why are you putting eight humans in front of the sleigh?”

“They wanted to celebrate their winter festival, and for that, they needed the red sleigh to fly. Eight humans said they would change their bodies so they could fly. It was a great sacrifice. Even now we remember their names, Asher, Tegan, Brooklyn and Griffin. Bridget, David, Conner, and Tristan.”

“What about Rudy?”

“I’m getting to that. As the winter festival approached, a great darkness covered the land. So dark, that the eight humans couldn’t see enough to fly and not run into things, or go right out into space.”

“They could go into space?”

“Some did. They did not return.”

“Cool. Is that when the glowing one came?”

“Yes. One human, his skin glowing bright, volunteered to change so he could fly too. Then he could lead the others all around the world.”

“How bright was he?”

“Legend says that they could see him from the horizon.”

“Whoa. But then he exploded, right?”

“Correct. Sometime during that night, far away from here, the light got so bright and so hot that it burned all of the humans away. It raced around the earth, and when we awoke the next morning, all of the humans were gone.”

“Why didn’t it burn us?”

“We don’t know.”

“Were there ashes left? Like, piles of human ashes?”

“Not according to the legends.”

“They maybe they’re not dead.”

“It’s been hundreds of years, and we haven’t seen a real human since that night.”

“Maybe they’re, like, invisible.”

“Surely they would have communicated by now.”

“Maybe they can’t. Maybe they’re like ghosts.”

“If they were ghosts, they’ve all moved on now.”

“Do you believe they’re really gone?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Can I frost the glowing one?”

“Of course.”

“What color did he glow?”

“Bright red.”

“Cool. Can I eat one of the other humans?”

“Not until your siblings get home.”

“What about a wild rice biscuit?”

“You know those are for dinner.”

“Please?”

“You’ll have to wait.”

“But whyyyyyy?”

Holiday Flash Fiction Categories!

Tradition:

  1. Decorating cookies
  2. Picking out a Christmas Tree
  3. Driving around looking at lights
  4. Staying up until midnight to hear the church bells ring
  5. Going into the woods to cut down your own tree
  6. Watching favorite holiday films
  7. Taking one of the men playing around with the deep fryer (while trying to cook an additional “better” turkey) to the ER for 2nd and 3rd degree burn
  8. PJ pictures on or near the stairs of all the kids Christmas morning
  9. The family sleeping around the Christmas tree the Friday before Christmas
  10. Christmas stockings made by grandma

Object:

  1. A Rabid Snowman
  2. Reindeer
  3. An old nutcracker
  4. Grandma’s crotched snowflakes
  5. Advent Calendar
  6. Krampus’ switch
  7. The heirloom tatted ornament that has been dunked in sugar water, starched, , and modge podged so many times it’s hard to tell what it originally was…(resembles an oblong Easter egg that’s been scrambled) but it’s been out for every Christmas since the oldest family member remembers, it’s tradition
  8. Wooden Christmas signs bought at Ensign
  9. Christmas village on the fireplace
  10. Death Star tree-topper

Food:

  1. Gluten Free Gingerbread
  2. Fruitcake
  3. Cranberry Jell-o Salad
  4. Homemade divinity
  5. Christmas crack chocolate
  6. Christmas Kibble (a cookie that looks like kibble)
  7. Aspic Salad
  8. Wild Rice
  9. Raspberry cream cheese desert
  10. Christmas sugar cookies

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