Growing up, my biggest and warmest memory of Christmas was our creche. The handmade figures, the huge stable built by my dad. The quilt batting and snow that covered a spattering of white Christmas lights, which created a shining snow-blanketed…
Growing up, my biggest and warmest memory of Christmas was our creche. The handmade figures, the huge stable built by my dad. The quilt batting and snow that covered a spattering of white Christmas lights, which created a shining snow-blanketed…
Can you still call it the “kid’s table” at holiday dinners if everyone at it is 18 and older? I still do, as I continue to sit with my young adult cousins and siblings, now with wine in hand. The…
