Have a holly jolly Christmas/Winter Celebration

I haven't posted in a while, so I think I owe it to you guys to have a Christmas/Winter Celebration post. If you don't know, I'm part Jewish, so our family feels inclined to have the Menorah out every year. We also get dradles that go to future gambling use, and awesome Jewish folk tales about boys who wish for giant pastries, and murderous Golems that can summon the dead to testify about the Jewish oppression. Truly a great religion. (No joke.)

Well, I can't really say much about other winter holidays but to say, have good ones, so I'll just get to Christmas.

I was trying to figure out what Christmas meant to me this year, because I have a lot of free time. And it came to me this night, while we began to decorate our Christmas tree. (Which I will talk about Christmas trees later.)

I found out that out of all of the things I like about Christmas, my best memories are of the Christmas trees. Yeah, people would think, GIFTS GIFTS GIFTS! But really the most memorable thing for me is our tree. And I have reasoning. It's just how we decorate our trees that makes me love it. I mean, I go out and see these trees with their multi coloured orbs, and alternating Christmas lights, and I am BORED! That isn't us. With us, every ornament tells a story. Pick up one, and you get into a discussion of it's past with the family. A discussion of touching moments, to hilarious stories. From the lazy snowman, who lies on the pine branches, to the glass bird who has no string, yet has survived countless tree failings. And the rocking horse with the seemingly insignificant in my history year of 1995. Then you remember that, that was the year you got moo cow, the spring powered horse, whom you have fond memories of climbing on, and pretending to lasso some freaking cattle rustlers! GET OWNED YELLOW BELLIED PRAIRIE SWINE! Sorry. And the newest, but unforgettable red ball with Jew Nose written in gold writing across the front.

That is my Christmas. A great green ghost of Christmas past, it's branches laced with stories. A rich tapestry of good times. It's not the receiving of gifts, or the giving of gifts, it's the reflection of gifts you already have.

(To be edited.)