I love Disney. I'm a Disney girl. Shamelessly and without apology. I grew up on The Wonderful World of Disney, where I'd get to see their movies whether we had the money to go to the movies or not.
Every single time I saw Cinderella's castle, I felt like I was truly a part of something magical. Though I watched a lot of Disney with my kids, I probably wouldn't have needed kids to watch them, particularly when Pixar rolled out its first few masterpieces. I love the perennial childhood of it. If I had the money, I'd be wrapped up in Disney all year long, right down to an annual Disneyland pass so I could go to the park whenever I wanted.
I live close enough to hear the fireworks show every single night, and there's a piece of me that always - ALWAYS - wants to be there to see it.
I love it. I love it, I love it, I love it.
Did I mention I love it?
I didn't always have the money to love it. Back in the early 1990s, I was lucky to own VHS tapes that my kids could watch over and over again. (Can you quote The Lion King verbatim? I can.)
Then I got a new job in 1995, probably one of the better jobs I had ever had. I couldn't always say the same about the boss, but there were times when she showed how generous and thoughtful she could be. In 1996, that included four free passes to Disneyland for me and my family as a Christmas gift.
This was a big deal for us, but it was an even bigger deal for me. I had never been to Disneyland, granted, but I had never been to ANY large theme park. I'm 46 years old, having lived most of my life about three hours west of Six Flags Over Texas, and I have never been. There was never really any money for that, plus it was never something my parents would have enjoyed doing even if we did have the money. They didn't really care for rides or crowds or overpriced Churros.
I didn't care about all that. I wanted to ride the rides. I wanted to see the castle. I wanted to feel like a princess, whose every wish could come true.
To be able to give that to my kids from an early age, starting with that first trip, was truly one of my more epic Christmas presents. Not just for the cost, which had to be somewhere around $400, but because for just a moment or two, my family, as bare-boned as it was, and as much as it struggled, could feel like everyone else just for the day.
Given how rough the first half of the 90s were, thanks mostly to Dan's unchecked mental illness, this was a big deal for us. It was the light at the end of the tunnel. Dan had begun therapy, I had a good job for once... things were looking up.
Things were.... magical. And I knew that the minute that I spotted Mickey Mouse walking around the park, and I reverted to a five-year-old when he waved me in to join the photo.
It was a great end to a great day. It also made me fall in love with a Disney Christmas. If you want to go to the parks, go around Christmas time. Even if you're not in the spirit, they'll do their best to get you there. (This may or may not work depending on how you feel about crowds. I'm not so pro on that, either, but for one day a year... it's worth it.)
Be sure to stick around for the fireworks. And if you're at Disneyland, I'll be celebrating vicariously through you just a few miles away as I remember all my awesome Christmas memories there. Happy 60th anniversary, Disneyland. I'll visit you again real soon. <3
Well, it's Christmas Eve. I've been avoiding a lot of the more traditional music this year because of losing my mom. I watched Dolly Parton's COAT OF MANY COLORS several days ago and I still can't think of those hymns she sang without dissolving into a sobby, inconsolable mess. So I knew better than to listen to the religious songs of my youth, knowing they'd devastate me.
They always have, even before I could litter the months of December and January with more sad anniversaries than should be legal. (Lost my Mom December 6, lost my Dad December 19 and lost my son January 15.)
(Wake me up when December ends...)
But... this is my favorite *true* Christmas song. I've used it in a couple of stories so far, and this is by far my favorite version, at least until Steve Perry releases his own version anyway. Get your hankies ready, folks.
Okay *sniffle*. Time to get back to the festivities. It is simply NOT Christmas Eve without a Christmas Carol, in whichever form you decide to enjoy this particular story. There are a few options. You can watch something a little more classic...
You can watch something a little more modern...
You can even watch it retold by none other than Doctor Who...
OR, you could be like me, and watch something completely irreverent. THIS is one of my favorite Christmas movies OF ALL TIME, and also featured in one of my Christmas stories as a result. (SAN FRANCISCO SERENADE, btw, which has been revised and updated and re-released everywhere, although Amazon has yet to price-match it as FREE like Barnes & Noble and iTunes.)
It's so good, and so beloved, I save watching it till Christmas Eve just to make it an event. I could have watched it the twenty or so times it played already, but no. I need it to be special. I need to turn off all the noise of the world and just immerse myself into it, instead of let it play like background noise in the background, which, with a few notable exceptions, is what TV is to me.
THIS is happening tonight. Join us, won't you?
Tonight we're baking for our dinner tomorrow. At least... I hope we will. Keep an eye on the Instagrams to see if I can make it happen in the midst of all the other pre-holiday craziness I've got going, which includes - *shudder* - going back out into public, namely... the grocery store. (I'm askerred. The pool is cold...)
Today's treat: CRANBERRY CHRISTMAS CAKE
I still want a pecan pie though. And we have about three more types of cookies to make. NO PRESSURE. But it's for a good cause, so .... BAKE LIKE THE WIND!
I've got two for you today. One is a short story called THE WAITER, which I have also revised in time for the holiday. Unlike SAN FRANCISCO SERENADE, it HAS been price-matched to free for the holidays on B&N and iTunes. (If you want SFS, I'd recommend using the "saw this at a lower price" feature on Amazon. I've been doing that at least twice a day for a week... maybe you'll have better luck than I did.)
This story is bittersweet and kinda ghostly, but I truly do love it. It's as me as a story gets, right down to its twisty ending. Charles Dickens would be so proud.
For you romance lovers out there, my book PICTURE POSTCARDS, is also available for free right now. It's a book I wrote in the 1990s, which I revised to the 2010s courtesy of the magic of Christmas, where this tale is told as a holiday bedtime story. I'm partial to this one, too.
Hell, I'm partial to all my babies. I can only hope that you like them too.
Here's an excerpt:
PROLOGUE
CHRISTMAS EVE, 2004
A bundle of boundless energy in footed Christmas jammies opened the door of her bedroom with nary a creek. She pulled playful tangles of tousled, dark hair from her dancing blue eyes, peering first one way down the dark, quiet hallway, then the other. She carefully and soundlessly padded towards the stairs, following the sound of carols playing in the warm and cozy living room downstairs. Dozens of candles lit the room where her mother was putting the finishing touches on their cheerfully decorated Christmas tree. She held each trinket like a cherished treasure, turning it over in her hands with a nostalgic smile as she examined each memento. The Eiffel Tower, the old jalopy – a pair of pink, sparkling ballet slippers – all dangled from the tree, side by side with dozens of other ornaments, telling the story of their family.
She looked so happy and peaceful as she trimmed the tree that the little girl almost didn’t want to disturb her. But despite her best efforts to stay concealed, her mother turned with a barely contained smile. “It’s not morning yet, you know.”
“I know,” the little girl sighed as she plopped onto the sofa. “But I’m too excited to sleep.”
“Santa won’t visit as long as you’re awake.”
That piqued the child’s interest. “Where is he now?”
“Let’s see,” her mother responded as she abandoned the decorating to head toward a computer sitting on a desk in the corner. Within a few clicks she had the information. “Looks like he’s headed to New York. That means he’ll be here in just a few hours.”
The child pouted. “But I can’t sleep. Maybe you should tell me a story.”
Any reprimand died on the woman’s lips as she glanced over at her beloved child. How could she deny her anything, much less a bedtime story? “Okay,” the mother agreed as she came to sit beside the little girl. “Which one?”
The child smiled wide. “You know.”
Her mother giggled as she pulled the cuddly little girl close. “Yes, I suppose I do.” Her eyes fell on the computer sitting across the room from where they huddled on the sofa. “It’s a story that took place only ten years ago, but things were pretty different then. Back then we couldn’t get a lot of our information in the blink of an eye like we do today. People still got letters in the mail, including special cards to let folks tell those they loved that they were thinking about them, no matter where their travels would take them.”
“Postcards,” the little girl supplied dutifully.
“Postcards,” the mother affirmed with a smile. “We still send and receive postcards today, but back then it was different. Mail traveled like people traveled, in cars and on planes, so all these postcards passed through dozens of hands before they reached the recipient. The journey connected people all over the planet with intimate little messages strangers could, and did, intercept. But you know what makes them extra special?”
“It was how you met Daddy,” the little girl whispered, in awe at the power of fate.
“It was how love brought your daddy to me,” the mother said softly. The little girl always thought her mother grew even lovelier when she spoke about the special bond they shared.
So the little girl snuggled in her mother’s arms and waited for the story she had heard many times in the previous seven years, but one that seemed to get better each and every time her mother told it.
“It was 1994,” the woman said, a softness creeping into her voice as she remembered how it all began. “I had just moved to Los Angeles to start my new career. I was pretty excited, and a little scared. And I had no idea that fate was about to change my life in a remarkable way.”
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