How could we miss the Lake Tahoe Historical Society's unique and entertaining holiday/history program, You’ll Never Escape the Fruitcake? The program was described as "a jolly romp through the tangled tinsel of Christmas traditions! From the noble origins of Christmas trees to the mysterious persistence of fruitcake (which scientists now believe may be immortal), local authors and historians David and Gayle Woodruff unwrap the weird, the wonderful, and the wildly nostalgic in a 55-minute living history presentation. It’s history with a side of ho-ho-hilarity—bring your cheer, your curiosity, and your own favorite memories of the holiday season."

Yesterday's writing group morphed into a Crafternoon, an event that combined a few of my favorite things: camaraderie, creativity, and buttons.

Karen led the group in crafting adorable gift tags while using buttons. She brought all the supplies. I was giddy.

I hosted my Talking on Paper writing group today with the 5-minute prompt being "If You Were An Exhibit At The Louvre, What Would Your Label Say?" (based on this buzzfeed article). Each of the six writers were so incredibly unique and creative with their responses.

Fun stuff. What would your label say?

“Keep your face to the sunshine

and you cannot see the shadows.

It's what the sunflowers do.”

― Helen Keller

Since it is officially December, and while the sun is shining warmly, we decided to hunt for this year's Christmas tree.

Armed with a $10 Tahoe National Forest Christmas Tree Permit, we ventured into nature and delighted in the search. Our needs are simple (even though permit holders may choose from varieties of pine, fir or cedar). We just need a little something to hang our ornaments upon that will sit on our family room table.

"In addition to the traditional experience, the permitted collection of smaller diameter trees, with a trunk of six inches in diameter or less, from selected areas contributes to the reduction of over-growth, particularly among firs, which are also the most sought after varieties for the holiday." Look at us helping the forest!

“The Christmas tree is a symbol of love, not money.

There's a kind of glory to them when they're all lit up

that exceeds anything all the money in the world could buy."

― Andy Rooney

This treasured Santa was my mother-in-law's. Wherever Christmas is celebrated, he will be coming with us. If you could hear him as he jiggles he says, "Ho ho ho, Merrrrrrrrrrrrry Christmas!" as his bell jingles. It truly is a family classic.

All my Christmas cards have been sent and now, having the tree up, it really is ♪♫...Beginning to Look a LOT Like Christmas♫♪.

Each year I bring out a comprehensive Christmas photo album which I began with our first Christmas together. Sadly, I stopped documenting life, in scrapbook form, in 2004. So while very incomplete, it is still a delightful annual memory evoker.

"It’s been ten Christmases since my mother passed away. I was pregnant with my first son and she was across the continent in a nursing home dying of cancer. Christmas came and went and my beautiful baby boy was born not knowing the wonderful woman I knew as mom.

Four more Christmases came and went and another beautiful boy joined our family without knowing his grandma. As I changed from a daughter to a mother, my heart ached that my mother couldn’t see my growth and her lifelong teachings come to fruition. She didn’t see my boys learn to walk and reach for independence. Where was she when I needed advice on diaper rash or tantrum control?

Christmas was when I missed my mom most. After she died, I was the distributor of the family ‘treasures’. I kept all the Christmas decorations. My husband would complain when the dingy, frosted ornaments would be placed by the new, fancy Hallmark collectables. “They were my mom’s,” I would explain.

On the center of the Christmas table, I placed a tattered Santa figurine that was once velvety and noble looking. Now all that remained was a faded, fat man in a red suit with holey gloves and a missing nose. “Mom, what is that thing?” my oldest asked. “It was my mom’s,” was my only explanation.

On my youngest son’s second Christmas, we were all admiring the newly decorated tree in the center of our family room. We were listening to carols on the radio and I was reminiscing of Christmases past when all of a sudden my not-quite-2-year-old turned to the corner of the room and said, loudly and clearly, “Hi Grandma.” My husband and I both turned to see what he could possibly be talking to or about. I asked him, “Who are you talking to?”. “Mommy’s Mommy,” he stated matter-of-factly.

We had never mentioned my mom to him. A feeling of peace fell over me and an ever present ache in my heart seemed to pass. After all these Christmases without my mom, could it have been that she was there all along?

I believe that my best Christmas present ever, was my son meeting his grandma in front of the dingy, frosted ornaments and the tattered, faded Santa and seeing her daughter that became a mother so many Christmases ago."

We are so grateful that our younger son's family hosts Thanksgiving every year and that we are all invited. In addition, it's a potluck meaning no one person has to do it all and we get to experience culinary delights from a variety of chefs.

Sunday found us back at the Minden Mill for another mesmerizing, and timely, presentation by David and Gayle Woodruff.

David and Gayle know their stuff. They lived and worked at Furnace Creek Resort for over 17 years, pursuing a lifelong interest in exploring Death Valley and researching its fascinating history. David has compiled historical photographs and documents made available by Rio Tinto Minerals (formerly the Borax Company), along with the National Park Service in Death Valley, to tell the story of tourism in this once seemingly untouristic spot. As is true of everyone of David's presentation, the information he can provide in just one hour is more that can be fully absorbed. It's a good thing I own his book Magnificent Oasis at Death Valley.

As mining opportunities diminished, there were those, particularly the owners of the Pacific Coast Borax Company, who saw the opportunity to transform some of the old mining camps and facilities into hotels and other visitor services. The increase in automobile ownership eased the journey into the valley from the growing population center of Los Angeles. Roads were built along the mining and emigrant trails, and the first tourist accommodations were established to welcome hot and weary travelers.

Eichbaum’s Stovepipe Wells Hotel began as 20 bungalows with 50 rooms, a restaurant, general store, filling station, swimming pool, tennis court, golf course, and airfield. He built a beacon light, powered by a generator, to guide visitors into the hotel during desert nights.