Christmas Spirit – not what you think

The dark shape slipped across the floor.

I saw it clearly, yet without form.  It was around the size of a cat and moved in a swift stalking motion.  I turned, fully expecting to see one of my two cats, but there was nothing there.  No cats.  No further movements.  No hint of what I had seen.

I turned away to see if the movement would return, perhaps it was just the light bending at the edge of my contacts, perhaps it was just a shadow running in from the open doorway, but, again, there was nothing there.  I looked back to the spot on the floor and frowned.

Three options, that’s what I came up with in that moment.  One, I had seen something that was moving between worlds, here for an instant and then gone again on whatever errand or chase or adventure it pursued.  Two, my lack of consistent sleep had finally started to catch up to me and my mind was playing tricks on me as a not-so-subtle warning that it was starting to slip.  Or three, my over-active imagination was running rampant again.

Of the choices, I am most comfortable with it being my imagination and least comfortable with it being a warning from my brain that I need more sleep.  I suspect, however, that it was in fact a playful spirit running through the room.

Because that is what I want it to be.

Because it isn’t the first time I’ve seen it.

Because that makes the better story.

And you, faithful kingdomites, what do you think?  Which of the options do you think is most likely?  Do you have a Christmas Spirit story to share?

Magic Vs. Reality Tug-Of-War Results

Those crazy wonderful folks over at Daily Prompt asked: “The Tooth Fairy (or Easter Bunny, or Santa Claus . . .) : a fun and harmless fiction, or a pointless justification for lying to children?”

I didn’t want to answer right away and then remembered that we have a great resource at our disposal for answering questions like this; so, I brought it up for a Tug-Of-War resolution.

And you played along…

The winner by an absolute avalanche is “fun and harmless fiction.”

The tallies:
fun fiction – 57
pointless lying – 19

Keeping the magic of being a child alive came out of the gates strong and pulled the truth into the mud before it could even start to put up a fight.  The truth did try and pull itself out of the mud but never got enough support to manage it.  Thus proving that magic trumps truth always and forever.

I’ve known it all along.  Magic does exist!




Some of these were very hard to place properly, according to the official counter.  They did their best, but if you feel your support went behind the wrong team let us know and we will adjust the numbers accordingly.

As a clarifying example: for those who said they wouldn’t perpetuate these stories to their own children we decided that should count on the Reality side of the tug-of-war despite any other arguments for Magic they had.

Thanks for playing.  The shower for those who need to rinse the mud off is just down the hall and to the left.  There are plenty of towels.

what’s in a name?

Continuing with the “supernatural” theme…

If you haven’t had a chance to read about George yet, you should probably do that.  (And while you are there I’m sure that Rara would be perfectly happy if you kicked your shoes off, made yourself at home and stayed awhile.  But that’s a little off topic.

We’re gathered together here today to talk about the origin of “George.”  No, not George the ghost, George of the Jungle, George Washington or George Washington Carver, or even George Gerswhin.  (Really, his first name is George, who knew?)  Rather, we are here to talk about how my George came to be called by that name:

A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to … oh, that’s the wrong story.  Sorry about that, let me start again:

A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far…  dangit, also the wrong story.  Hang on a second.



*We seem to be experiencing technical difficulties, please bear with us as we work to quickly resolve the issue.  Your regularly scheduled programming will resume shortly.*


*We seem to be experie…


Sorry about that, here we go:

My maternal grandmother was a firecracker.  Sweet, caring, truly wonderful, and absolutely snarky.  (Hmm, I don’t really like that definition, and this one isn’t much better.  Maybe that word doesn’t mean what I think it means.  That would be downright inconceivable.)  She was silly and unapologetic and forgetful.  Throw into the mix the fact that my brother and I both have names that start with “M.”  When I came around she would sometimes accidentally call me Mikicus and sometimes call me Mi-atticus and then she would laugh and say, “That’s it, I’m just going to call you George.” 

And then there were two more grandchildren after me and they too became Georges.  Eventually everyone in the family was labeled with that moniker at one time or another.

When the ghost started showing up in our house, and he needed a more formal designation than just “ghost,” there was only one logical thing we could do.  (*Please kneel.  We dub thee “George,” the official ghost of this realm.  Long may you haunt these halls.*)

Now you know…  I feel like there are several sayings that go along with that, but you already know those.  So, for fun, if you want to play along, leave an idea of how to finish “Now you know…” in the comments. 

What?  You want an example?  Needy.  Fine.  Here:  Now you know and knowing is as awesome as eating a taco.

Santa Claus is coming to town

I live fairly close to a fire station: any time they roll, I can hear them (day or night) heading out to take care of business. 

Last night, I heard them roll again and didn’t really think anything of it until it dawned on me that I could still hear them long after the wailing should have come and gone.  Plus, the sound was slightly off.  I was hearing more of them honking the siren rather than letting it play out completely. 

And there were a lot of them.

And they were right outside my front door.

I sprang from my couch (that spawn of evil), and went to my porch to see what all the clatter was about.  And there, rolling down my street, with a sleigh, and some reindeer (Rudolph in the lead) was Santa Claus!

There were three fire trucks inching down the road in front of him and three more fire trucks in the rear and they made quite the little procession as they made their way up and down the residential streets of my neighborhood.  Music was playing from somewhere, which I was just able to catch in between the siren blasts.  Santa was waving.

And, I’m certain, over it all I could just faintly hear him laughing, “Ho Ho Ho Ho…”

Cars started honking as they passed him on the street.  The children in my neighboring houses called out to him.  Everyone was wishing everyone else a merry Christmas.  I went back inside with a smile on my face.

What do you know, there is a little bit of magic left in this world.