Angel Wheeler

Christmas

  • Anticipating Christmas Morning

    It’s the dead, dark middle of the night.  I lay here wide awake in eager anticipation of the morning.  The house is slumbering, the only sounds are the ticking of the clocks and the occasional roar of the heater coming on.  Visions of sugar plums, I imagine, are floating.  J-Dub just went to bed a… Read more

  • The Reason I Cried on Christmas

    We left Christmas day, loaded up the family and the dogs and drove to my mom’s house, 6 hours away. I wanted to have Christmas morning at home, open the presents with just the few of us, then leave.  But after opening presents, we had to take down the tree, because I didn’t want to… Read more

  • Chopping Down the Tree

    I’ve talked about it before, about this imaginary world inside my head.  Fantopia, it’s called.  It’s a fantasy utopia where my life is perfect.  It’s a nice place, until I try to merge Fantopia with Reality, then it’s just depressing. Case in point:  Since we moved to the mountains, we thought it would be a… Read more

  • Christmas Morning

          I don’t know how your family does it, but my family tears it up, literally. There is no designated “Santa” to pass out gifts.  We don’t sit patiently taking turns watching others open gifts.  It’s pretty much a free for all! It is loud.  Paper is tearing, boxes are tossed across the… Read more

  • The First Night

    We loaded a borrowed horsetrailer with pots and pans, sheets, and an overnight bag along with an assortment of cardboard boxes I have spent the last 3 weeks packing up and we headed west. We thought it a good idea to get a jump on moving to our new home in Ruidoso and besides just being… Read more

  • Stress? Why yes, I’ll have another.

    My blog has been rather quiet lately and I hate that, but that’s because right now I am literally up to my eyeballs in moving boxes. I had this great idea to start the process of packing early, uncluttering, and only taking the essentials.  And it seems that has dragged this whole shindig out way too… Read more

  • In Memory of My Dad #17

    Being Santa Claus Isn’t Always Easy, Unless You Believe by R.L. Briggs Commentary Speaking from past experience, one of the best things that can happen when you are playing Santa Claus is to get those baggy pants off, the whiskers out of your mouth and those phony bootees off your shoes. Nobody helps.  Everyone else… Read more