The table set for Christmas breakfast:

Easy, glorious, gooey monkey bread:

The stockings my mother made, trimmed in Mongolian fur:

The obsessive-compulsive wrapping disorder in full tilt:

Pink, too:

Baubles and fresh pine branches, anywhere I could tuck them:

My mother’s bell jar tradition —  memories held beneath glass:

(At my mom’s house):

Peppermint treats in vintage silver dishes:

And in the end, Santa came, and he had a mini mascot, too.

Thanks for sharing my memories.