Over the river, and through the wood, to Grandmother’s house we go …
I’m 59 years old today.
How do you like them apples?
The countdown to 60 is on.
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In other news, my holiday doormat arrived.
Many of you have already decked the halls.
I enjoy watching it all unfold on your blogs, Pinterest, and Instagram’s.
A couple of weeks ago I shared my holiday prep to-do list.
I’m pleased to report … mission accomplished.
And an even bigger thrill … everything on the grand-nieces and nephews gift lists was procured without delay.
Wow, I’m feeling lucky.
It’s all over but the wrapping.
And the decorating.
I still need to decorate.
But that won’t happen until after Thanksgiving.
And, because we’re not hosting, we’re guesting … I have a little lull in the action.
So, let’s take a walk down memory lane.
No matter how old I get memories of my childhood Christmases at my grandmother’s never fade.
(Although I have no idea what I did yesterday.)
After Thanksgiving, I counted the days until Christmas vacation.
The first day of school break, my parents loaded up the Country Squire.
Me, my sister, our dog, and sometimes our cat.
A big Coleman thermos filled with water, a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken and a ton of suitcases and gifts.
And we were off for the 12-hour drive to Grandma’s house.
A drive that easily stretched to 14-hours with pit stops.
Much to my father’s chagrin.
Are we there yet?
By early evening, we pulled up to Grandma’s house.
Her Christmas lights were up, tree decorated and a sea of presents spilled out underneath.
A pot of chili bubbling away on the stove.
And a buffet covered with a beautifully presented assortment of Christmas cookies.
Baked by Grandma and her friends awaited us.
We were happily ensconced in Grandma’s house once again.
Ready to begin two fun filled weeks with everything Christmas can and should be.
We were a Christmas Eve family.
Christmas Eve was our main event.
We piled into cars packed with gifts and headed across town to my aunt’s house.
After depositing the gifts under my aunt’s chicly decorated tree,
the grown-ups went across the street to a neighbor’s Christmas Eve cocktail party.
My sister and I waited, impatiently, for their return.
Speaking of cocktail parties, how about a couple of holiday cocktail ideas …
Cranberry Tequila Punch is fun and festive for a group.
And the always elegant Raspberry Kir Royale.
When the adults returned, we sat down for dinner and then … the gifts.
They took hours to open.
One at a time.
We finished in the early hours of the morning and headed back to Grandma’s.
Sugar plumb fairies danced in our heads as we
slept waited for Santa.
On Christmas morning we were up at the crack of dawn sneaking downstairs to see if Santa had come
… and if he and his reindeer ate Grandma’s cookies.
Then we sat down to a breakfast of Swedish pancakes and little pigs (link sausages).
Last year I set our Christmas morning breakfast table with my mother’s Waechterbach dishes.
Gifted to her over the years by my grandmother and handed down to me.
Later in the day, my aunt and her family arrived and a traditional turkey dinner, made by Grandma, was served promptly at 4:00pm.
Last year was our first Christmas at Snowberry and I look forward to making many Christmas memories here.
Although nothing can touch those magical Christmases at Grandma’s house.
So, there you have it, a walk down memory lane
and Snowberry’s first Christmas wrapped up in one neat
I’ll be back after Thanksgiving with my second annual list of great gift ideas aka Snowberry Essentials
… and a quick tour of Snowberry’s minimalist holiday décor.
I just peeked at last year’s gift ideas and I’m not sure how I can improve on it.
But I like a challenge.
In the meantime, I wish you a very happy Thanksgiving with your family and friends.
I’m so grateful to you for taking the time to be here and supporting my little blog.
It means the world to me.
And I appreciate you.
As always, I appreciate your visit and welcome your thoughts in the comments below.
Cheers from Snowberry!
All photos in this post are taken by Monica Vargas Photography.