My Favorite Holiday Treat

Today is Christmas Eve. In my circle of friends and family, this marks the last turn into the home stretch of the season's Holiday parties. This year was more hectic than usual because I had readings and signings to promote the new book*, along with a bit of guitar-strumming and speaking for Lost Voices.


Now when most folks write about Holiday parties, it seems like they just want to gripe about them. I think they are just mad because they have to put on clean socks. Or, in my case, socks. 


But you won't hear me griping. If you know me you know that I love all kinds of parties. I particularly love the kind that feature eggnog with rum in it, tables creaking under mountains of candy and fruitcakes, and sappy Christmas music. Especially the music. After fifty-eight years of listening to Bing Crosby croon "White Christmas," I still can't get enough.


Of course my favorite Holiday treat is what happens all day long on Christmas Eve. 

The Story of Carlson the Christmas Angel

Carlson was not a particularly happy Angel. You see, he wasn’t allowed to live in Heaven. He was a Guardian Angel, which meant that he had to hang around on Earth, taking care of his Client, Bob.

Now, Guardian Angel duty was about the most difficult job an Angel could have, even under the best of circumstances. Angels couldn’t change what their Clients said or did; they could only try to protect them from accidents. Or, more commonly, from the consequences of their actions.


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