Blast from the Past: SEEING SANTA by Robin Weaver

 Seeing Santa

By Robin Weaver

Hi Everyone,
I wanted to re-post one of my favorite--and earliest--holiday memories. Hope you enjoy the read.
Happy Holidays to All!


I hadn’t seen him in almost forty years but there he was, waving at me from the cover of a greeting card. One eye twinkled, while the other closed in a saucy wink. Just the way I remembered him.

My parents separated the year I turned five so Mom and I moved in with my grandfather and my teenage aunts. Three women meant three bosses, so I did the only thing possible, I hid. Even with my stealth, I couldn’t escape the daily reminder: Santa will bring you a sack full of switches if you don’t shape up. I wasn’t especially looking forward to Mr. Claus’s visit.

The weather turned uncharacteristically cold and I refused to take off the fur hat my father had mailed to me. The previous Christmas, I'd found a set of paper-dolls under the tree, so a visit from Ole St. Nick couldn’t compete with my new fuzzy head-piece and its big shiny sequins.

When the house became unbearable, I’d take my hat and escape to the yard. I was a great pretender, becoming a master chef who created amazing pies out of mud and corn kernels. Or maybe I’d be a major-general, leading troops to victory against hordes of Nazi soldiers or a fairy queen who turned dandelions into roses with a single swish of my twiggy wand. But my greatest joy was listening to Gramps tell his marvelous stories.

One night, Gramps finished a story about a giant toe. I’d started to sweat because I sat too close to the fireplace and still wore my new hat. When he finished the story, he asked, "So, Teensie, what do you want Santa to bring you?"

I took off the hat, concentrating intensely on a sparkly sequin while I tried to stifle my sniffles. I couldn't tell Gramps about the switches.

"Teensie, what’s wrong with you?" he cajoled.

"Santa won’t come to see me, Gramps. I’ve been bad."

"And just what have you done that’s so bad?"

"Well, I got mud on Aunt Judie’s new rug and my fingerprints are all over the coffee table. I scuffed my new shoes and I wore this hat when Mama said I shouldn’t." I stopped rambling long enough to wipe my nose on my sleeve. "And, that’s just stuff I did today. I can’t even ‘member the stuff I did yesterday."

Gramps stared for a few seconds without speaking. I was sure he thought I’d get those switches after all. He finally spoke, "You must try to mind your Mama and your aunts, but Santa expects you to be good, not perfect."

I looked up in wonder. "You mean?"

"Yep. Santa doesn’t care about throw rugs and coffee tables. He wants you to do your best. Have you done that?"

"Yes." I was feeling pretty good.

"And have you told any lies?"

"Not a one!" I felt really good.

"Then I’m sure Santa will bring you something good."

On December twenty-fourth, my aunts and I sat around our Christmas tree eating chocolate and biscuits. Mama and Gramps had already gone to their rooms and Jingle Bell Rock played on the old radio. I hummed as I cut paper-dolls from an old catalog.

Aunt June asked, "Shouldn’t you be going to bed?"

"I can't go to sleep until the fire goes out." Both aunts snickered.

June went back to her album and Judie stuck her head back into the magazine with a picture of a man and a woman kissing on the cover. I grabbed my scissors when something in the window caught my eye. There he was.

Santa!

He had neither hat nor hair on his head. I wondered if I should loan him my new hat. I glanced at my aunts to see if they saw him too, but they were reading. I looked back and Santa held his finger to his lips. He winked and the, just like that, he was gone.

I checked again to see if my aunts saw him,but they kept doing their teenage things. After a quick check of the fireplace to make sure only coals remained, I raced to bed and pulled the cover over my head.

Memories of that Christmas Eve had faded, but the perfect likeness on the greeting card brought the past back. I purchased the card.

Later that night, I called Aunt June. "When I was five, was that Gramps who dressed up as Santa?"

"What are you talking about?"

"There was a Santa at the window. Was that Gramps?"

My aunt remained silent for a moment. "No one ever dressed up as Santa. Even if we could have afforded a Santa Claus suit, your mother would never have allowed it."

"Are you sure?" I persisted. "I saw a Santa outside the window."

"I promise you. While we lived in the farmhouse, there was never a Santa."

Oh but there was. I hung up, perplexed. I still don't know who or what I saw outside that window, but in my mind, Santa will always live.
Copyright © 2011 by Robin Weaver
Now Available! The newest novella in the Merryvale series.

Full Contact Decorating

Christmas Tree Wars

Steamy Christmases in Australia

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…

Well, one day I might see a white Christmas if I travel to the other side of the planet during the holiday season. But as an Aussie, my experience of Christmas is quite different to many of my American and European friends and readers.

I’ve been thinking about Christmas in Australia lately, since I’ve just written and released a Christmas-themed novella set in my home city of Melbourne, Australia. There’s shopping and mayhem, plus a little romance. Also, steamy weather changing from thunderstorms with lightning to hot sunny days over 35 degrees C (95 degrees F), maximum strength sunscreen and hat required. This is Christmas to me!

As I write, we’re experiencing a spring heatwave with temperatures over 30 degrees C already. I can tell you I don’t feel like doing any Christmas shopping. Or writing. I must admit my brain turns to mush in the heat, so it's just as well the holidays are coming.

Christmas as an Aussie kid

Leading up to Christmas, we often made our own paper chains and Advent calendars at school and then decorated our lounge room with them. My favourite decoration was the pretty angel doll that went on the top of the tree. It was always exciting to decorate our Christmas tree in December. When I was younger we had a massive pine tree in our backyard, so Mum and Dad would cut off a good sized branch to be our tree. The whole house would be filled with the scent of fresh pine.

Our family usually went to Catholic Mass on Christmas Eve. I’ll admit it wasn’t much fun – too hot, too crowded and too many hymns and long-winded readings were boring to a child. But some years we went to the children’s service when kids would dress up as Bible characters like shepherds and angels, and that was fun.

As a kid, we’d often have a barbeque lunch for Christmas dinner or Boxing Day, when we’d see a few more members of our extended family. Lots of sausages (snags) in bread, hamburgers and salads, seafood platters and cold ham.

My favourite Christmas desserts were always Pavlova (fruit and cream-topped meringue dessert) and cheesecake, maybe ice-cream too. I never did care for hot Christmas pudding or fruit cake.

Despite being from England, my mother doesn’t like the traditional English hot dinner in the Australian heat. I don’t blame her – I wouldn’t want to cook roast beef and Yorkshire pudding in stifling hot weather with no air-conditioning either. My cousins and I would sometimes play a backyard cricket match after lunch. None of us were very good players but it was still fun.

Later, after Christmas dinner, we’d relax and eat leftovers, play with our new toys and then go to the beach over the next few days. I loved when we’d go to our family holiday house on the Mornington Peninsula, a gorgeous spot close to the ocean beach. Since it was also school holidays, we’d sometimes stay there for a week or two.

Christmas Eve – making our own traditions

As an adult, my boyfriend (now husband) and I started our own tradition of hosting Christmas Eve parties at home. We have lots of food and wine, catch up with old friends and family and the kids run around outside until late. The Christmas Carols in the Domain (a Melbourne live concert) is usually playing on TV. We do a Kris Kringle exchange of presents for all the kids. Last year we gave everyone water pistols, so they all got soaked but it was hot weather and good fun.

My two little boys love laying out their Christmas pillowcases ready for Santa Claus to come after our party winds down. We also leave out a few snacks for Santa and his reindeer near our Christmas tree. We’ve found Santa likes red wine and chocolate cake, while Rudolph prefers a carrot.

Last year my boys received BMX style bikes (still with training wheels at the time). This year it might be skateboards as well as Lego and other fun bigger kid things. Exciting! I'm sure we'll be riding and skating at the local park on Christmas day.

Getting ready for summer holidays

The kids will be on summer holidays for six long weeks from the end of December, so it will probably mean a slow-down in my writing. It will probably also be hideously hot and sticky, so I’m hoping to take off to the beach somewhere for a while.

I won’t be travelling anywhere white or snowy this year, but I’ll watch a couple of Northern Hemisphere Christmas movies and live vicariously through them…while I sip white wine or eat gelati by a beach somewhere!

What are your Christmas traditions and favourite holiday treats? I'd love to hear from you all.

Christmas novella - Heart Note

My new release is titled Heart Note: A Christmas romcom novella. It's out now at all major ebook retail sites and already has some wonderful reviews. The story is about Lily, a perfume counter manager at a major Australian department store. In the lead-up to Christmas, it's all about gift sets, keeping the grumpy customers happy and maybe...finding romance and catching some criminals!

Blurb

A funny, romantic comedy Christmas novella, perfect for fans of Love Actually . . . from the award-winning author of Girl on a Plane.

Love is like a fine perfume. The top note draws you in, an instant attraction, but the Heart Note is the true essence. Like true love – a great perfume should be a woman’s perfect match.

At least, that’s what perfume counter manager, Lily Lucas, tells her customers in one of Australia’s largest department stores. 

It’s almost Christmas, the store is bedecked with baubles and Lily has about eleventy billion gifts to wrap and sell. She and her team of spritzer chicks are glamorous, professional and hoping they don’t have to wear the hideous red onesies and reindeer antlers the store manager has in mind.

The high point of Lily’s work life is Christos Cyriakos, ex-cop, security guard, possible Greek god. He's a mystery box she’d love to unwrap. But can she trust him?

All Lily wants for Christmas is to kiss Christos (and more), catch a band of thieves running amok in the store, and live happily ever after. Is that too much to wish for?

Buy links - books2read.com/HeartNote 

About Cassandra O'Leary

Winner of the global We Heart New Talent contest. Nominated for Best New Author in the 2016 AusRomToday Reader's Choice Awards for excellence in Australian romance fiction. 

Cassandra O'Leary is a romance and women's fiction author from Melbourne, Australia. You'll find her drinking coffee, dreaming of Italy and Spain, and raising two mini ninjas with her superhero husband. 

Cassandra loves romantic comedies and is having fun writing her own romcom books. Heart Note: A Christmas romcom novella, was released in November 2017. Her debut novel, Girl on a Plane, was released in July 2016. It's also being translated into Czech!

In 2015, Cassandra won the global We Heart New Talent contest run by Avon Books/HarperCollins UK. She was also a 2015 finalist in the Lone Star contest, Northwest Houston Romance Writers of America, and a 2014 finalist, First Kiss contest, Romance Writers of Australia. 

Read more or sign-up for Cassandra's newsletter at cassandraolearyauthor.com

Christmas Time Was Mom's One-Woman Bake Off Show

by Michelle Monkou

Christmas is coming. 

And so is Santa.

Gifts, including books, would be part of the day.

Freshly baked cakes and other desserts were always on the way.

That was my Christmas as a child growing up in a home full of love and the good fortune to have these material things. My (maternal) grandmother was the baking queen of the house and when she died, my mother wore the crown and earned her reputation as the baking queen handing out baked goodies as gifts to family friends. She continued with that tradition into her 80s before she died.

Since my mother lived for many years in Guyana, England and the U.S., she always widened her circle of knowledge when it came to her baking skills. As a child, I got to enjoy the eclectic array of Christmas desserts. Although as I got older, I then had to help with the preparations for these recipes and boy, did I grumble my way through the process until I got my first serving of hot goodies.

As the holidays approach, I am all in my feels right now about how special my mother made Christmas. I want to share with you a few of her favorite offerings. My description of the desserts are based on the way my mother made her dish (for any purists out there).  BTW, the photographs are not mine, but represent the look of the finished desserts.

Surinamese Dutch Fiado(e)

My mom said Fiado was a Dutch Christmas cake. When I checked on its origin, I found it mentioned mainly under Surinamese desserts. They do speak Dutch, however. This cake was labor-intensive. My mom would roll out the dough, spread the mixture of currants and raisns (the same mixture that she used for Black Cake), and then tightly roll the dough and fruit mix before cutting it horizontally into little sections. Another part of the dough lined the bottom and sides of a round pan. She then filled that pan with the small sections creating layers. Between the layers, she'd add cinnamon and butter until the entire pan was full. After baking, she'd pour a light syrup over the cake and then it was ready to be eaten.

Guyanese Black Cake

To be honest, I don't care for Black Cake. If it was part of the array of desserts, I always went for the other options. My mother would have the fruit mix of rains, currants, maraschino cherries that were ground and kept in a container soaking in wine/rum all year long. She'd make her cake mix and then had gobs of this fruit mix in the batch with other ingredients. It would smell heavenly as it baked. Now she normally baked these before Christmas and would store in a cool place. In the U.S. (Maryland),  she'd store them in the attic. Anyway, every day, she'd pour rum over the cake. And it would soak it up. By the time it was cut, the cake could probably get you pulled over for a DUI. At my wedding reception, I had a groom's cake, the wedding cake, and the good old Guyanese black cake (as mother insisted that her friends would expect).

African/Ameridian Cassava Pone

As a child, I didn't relish eating boiled cassava. There's no real taste except it's starchy and dense. But from cassava, you can get crisp cassava bread which was delicious with salted (means a little more salty than normal) butter. There's also a product called casreep which comes from squeezing out the juice of the cassava and having it go through an intricate process to make pepper pot.

But the dessert comes in the form of cassava pone which has a thick, gelatinous texture that is sweet, with the added ingredient of grated coconut. I preferred the corners or the pieces next to the pan where the top and side were crunchy/chewy. The origin of this delicious treat seems split between Africa and the indigenous people of Guyana. Figured I'd share the credit and any cuisine purist can rectify who made it first.

Irish Chester Cake

This dessert is also on my less fave side with the Black Cake, except that I love love love pastry. So I'd beg for the corners from anyone in the family who took the normal portion. I literally only wanted the pastry with a hint of that black cake. But Chester Cake is more than black cake. It's stale cake or bread (my mom would store any uneaten cakes or such in the freezer). Then when she was making the mixture, she'd add those alcohol-soaked raisins and voila, the middle was ready. And perish the thought that she'd use ready-made pastry shells. That thick piece of pastry was from scratch.

Guyanese/Indian Mithai/Laktoe/Kurma

One of my faves and my daughter's fave dessert is Mithai. As one of the dominant cultures in Guyana,  Indians have significantly contributed to the Caribbean cuisine. I've seen the term Laktoe to mean the crunchy form of this sweet/Mithai and Kurma for the softer, doughy version. I prefer the crunch of a good Mithai. Creating the dough and frying the cut pieces weren't difficult. Getting the syrup to the right point for it to crystalize onto the mithai was a trial and error until you could eye-ball the concoction and intuitively know when to toss in the fried pieces to be coated. At the end, my mom would give me a portion and I'd get my book and sit in my room munching and reading until I had to go to stealth mode to nab another helping.

Right now the esteemed crown for queen of baking is on the shelf. I don't bake the goodies because I don't eat a lot of the desserts now. Those pesky calories. And my children aren't fond of the richer eclectic fare. But I do treasure everything that went into making my childhood Christmases special and memorable. Maybe one day, I'll be motivated when and if I have grandbabies to spoil with baked goodies and stories of their great and great-great grandmother.