Over the river, through the woods
Away from grandma’s house we go
The “horse” knows the way
From sunny climes to cold and snow
On winding concrete ribbons
Past endless, hills, valleys
Numerous, strange-named places
Full of people we didn’t know
Luggage, packed, stowed away
Always more than the year before
Why has it always been that way?
Ring-a-ding, ring-a-ding, ding, ding go the Salvation Army bell-ringers.
What’s changed this Holiday Season?
Political punditry–the election ended yesterday. Today, the ashes are falling.
Political pundits do what they do best. Make claims and disappear till the next election.
Let the blame-games commence.
Enough about politics. A couple of years ago, I alluded to a warped version of the “Twelve Days Of Christmas.”
Here are more verses, in addition to, “Seven white-tailed deer,” “eleven discarded beer cans,” first and third verses–“a large front-yard hole, left by the utility company, where no hole used to be,” “Three decorated mailboxes.”
As for the rest of the song–there’s always next year.
No one needs to be reminded of the countdown to Christmas. It seems to me that after Halloween ends, the Holiday season is upon us.
Our family tradition–a holiday before the Holidays. No gifts exchanged–except for homemade beef vegetable soup, simmered all day. Homemade chicken noodle soup for those that prefer.
Estranged family members still crave it and are never turned away. They are obliged with a quart of home-made soup to take home. Leftovers are enjoyed for days.
Just a few more days till “Soupsgiving.” I can’t wait. There will be plenty for everyone. Happy Soupsgiving everyone.