Tag Archives: blog hop

I’m Dreaming of a Big Gay Christmas

The writing prompt this week is “The Best Gift You Could Give Me This Christmas,” courtesy of Deanna Dennis at A Long Run.  This one is easy peasy!  I don’t really have a list of presents that I am hoping for this year–I just want a Big Gay Christmas.

Big Gay is my stepmother.  My fairy stepmother, because she has a gift for spreading magic all around her and making it look easy.   Christmas Eve at their house is my favorite family event of the year.  We call her “Big Gay” because we have more than one Gay in the family–my sister is named Gay and our stepmother is, too.  And we grew up in Gay, Georgia for that matter.  So when Daddy married Gay, we had to distinguish–thus Big Gay and Little Gay.

Here are a few things that make a Big Gay Christmas the best day in my year:

1.  Big Gay puts great thought and effort into decorating.  It makes me feel special to be surrounded by that much beauty.  Even during the years when she worked retail and didn’t get home until 8pm on Christmas Eve, we still had a glowing tree, fresh garlands and coconut cakes.  She once told me, “There’s so much in life that you can’t control, it just makes sense to me to make things as lovely as possible when you can.”

The dining room tree, reflected in a silver bowl.

The dining room tree, reflected in a silver bowl.

Nana's tree

Nana’s tree is silver and gold.

2.  Big Gay gives gifts that are carefully chosen for each person.  And every gift is wrapped in gorgeous paper and ribbon with a handwritten and tied gift tag.  One year, she gave me a white terry bath robe “because writers need a good robe.”  There were plenty of years when our gifts came from the pawn shop, but they were just what we had asked for.  One year when the grandchildren were small and LOVED opening presents, Big Gay went to the dollar store and bought all five of them 20 presents each.  Every plastic soldier or bottle of bubbles was lovingly wrapped and ribboned, then piled up in the middle of the floor so the kids could sort through 100 presents!

I wrapped these, but I stole all the ribbons from Big Gay.

I wrapped these, but I stole all the ribbons from Big Gay.

3.  Everyone gets a place at the table.  This might require extra tables in the kitchen and out on the porch, but each guest will have a seat and a lovely plate full of good food.  Big Gay makes sure the kids have tiny forks that fit their hands and cups that they can hold.  Papa asks the blessing and cries.

The slowest eater in the family.

The slowest eater in the family, still working on her biscuit.

gay decor two

4.  Even though Big Gay’s house looks like a spread in House Beautiful, it’s home.  It’s comfortable.  You can take your shoes off and unbutton your pants after dinner.

Barefoot with my baybuh.

Barefoot with my baybuh.

This was the year I bought Vivi's tights at the consignment sale and the elastic died!

This was the year I bought Vivi’s tights at the consignment sale and the elastic died!

5.  At Nana and Papa’s house, the kids can be kids.  This is the best part of Big Gay Christmas to me–there is magic tucked in every corner.  Frosty leaves his hat lying around.  Jumping on the furniture is tolerated and soccer in the library is perfectly fine.  Santa calls to tell everyone it’s time for bed.  Elmo chills out with a smoke.  We laugh and we laugh and we laugh.

gay santa calls

Santa calls to make sure the kids are heading to bed.

gay tree two

Nana loses a few ornaments each year to tiny curiosity.

gay soccer

Soccer? Sure. Just keep your kicks low.

gay globes

It always snows on Christmas Eve…at least in the snow globes.

gay furniture

Jumping on the furniture is fine.

gay ginger

Gingerbread houses sprout here and there.

gay frosty

Frosty left his hat in the kitchen.

gay elmo smoke

Even Elmo gets to relax.

That’s the present I’m most excited about this year–Big Gay Christmas.  It’s fabulous.  

My writing group is pondering this theme today.  Check out other thoughts at A Long Run!

A Letter To My Daughter

This is a Mike Letter, complete with photo montage and watercolor. Rufus the cat is completely unrelated.

This is a Mike Letter, complete with photo montage and watercolor. Rufus the cat is completely unrelated.

It’s my turn to host the blog hop!  Our theme this week is “The Last Letter I Wrote By Hand.”  Mike Miller, if you’re reading this, it’s in honor of you and the exquisite letters you’ve sent my way over the last 28 years.  Y’all seriously. Mike not only writes REAL letters, he writes them on paper he has made and/or painted by hand.

Letters are dear to me but have faded from my life for the most part.  There’s a Heineken box in the basement filled with all the letters I got while in high school and college.  When G and I were decluttering the den this weekend, he found a “To My Wife” Valentine stuck in a cabinet drawer…signed by Fartbuster.  Yeah, it was time for a cleaning!  I remember writing a letter on mint green paper to give to  Fartbuster on our wedding day.  I wonder what happened to those promises I meant so deeply that day.

Well, that was then.  This is now.  I do still write some letters, about two a year.

I keep a little journal for each of my children and I write letters to them about what’s going on in their lives at this date and how they are growing and changing.  I’ve been writing these letters since before they were born.

The first letter in Vivi’s journal is addressed to “Dear Pollywog,” because we didn’t even know then if we were having a boy or a girl.  That letter was composed in my cozy compartment on a train trip across Canada with the Cowboy Junkies.  Yeah, that was a cool letter.  A few months later, I wrote Vivi a letter from a beach in Puerto Rico before she was born.  I was watching a pelican dive and dive and dive for its dinner and it made me think about persistence.  I wanted her to know that it’s important to know that it sometimes takes 100 tries before you get what you’re aiming for.  There are letters about her first step and first word.  Her favorite knock-knock jokes and a picture she drew for Santa on a napkin we left next to the cookies and milk.

Old journal, new media

Old journal, new media

The last letter in that journal was written a year ago–I’ve had less impetus to write now that she and I TALK so much.  The letter described a typical Saturday morning, the games we played all piled in the big bed together and the mango she and Daddy shared for breakfast.  The pirate game we made up on the playfort and her favorite Octonauts shows.

On the page behind that letter is a little note she wrote to Daddy when she and I were on an adventure:  “I mist u som uhc dad. I luov u.  Thak u.”  One day, she’ll meet herself in these letters.

I guess that’s why we hold on to letters.  They capture those moments in the folds of the paper, the people we were on those days.  

What’s the last letter you wrote out by hand?  Want to read more stories about handwritten letters?  Follow these links to read more!

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