Merry Christmas

I blame Craig.

My brother, Craig, who lives in Wyoming, traveled here with his family for Christmas. Two days ago, he asked, "why is it so warm here?"

True, there was no snow, but when the wind blew down out of the canyons after sunset, it was very cold. Icy cold.

"Isn't this a little too cold for an evening outdoor excursion?" we asked.

"Whatever," said Craig. "This is nothing. You realize you're complaining about the cold to the people from Wyoming?"

So we sat through the traffic to walk through the the crowds to see the lights, trying to keep things positive for the sake of our pre-teen, who was more negative than all of the rest of them. Including Craig's three pre-teens all put together.

"It's cold! My toe hurts! Whose stupid idea was this again?"

I didn't take any pictures. But I thought about all the facebook posts I've seen with those lights in them, the hashtag "share goodness", and then wondered about adding our own soundtrack to go with that hashtag....

"Can we leave yet? There are too many people. I'm never doing this again!"

But instead, I didn't take any pictures.

I took pictures earlier.

Kim had the great idea to decorate Ugly Christmas Sweater Sugar Cookies. And we made some winners. 

Tim's sweater.

Kim's sweater.

Mine. That's a reindeer, not a dog.

Kendrick decorating carefully.

The final product.

Only Brent and Grace decided to do their own thing, and somehow Grace's hand got decorated instead of a cookie. Fail, Brent. Fail.

Christmas Eve at my sister Cynthia's house was lovely. Hence I took no pictures.

But the drive home was cold and windy. The wind fought back against the little electric car, and the car barely made it over the foot of the mountain, through the valley, up the last hill to roll into our driveway. Very low battery charge.

Cold, Craig. Cold and windy. 

And then this morning? Christmas morning?

I blame Craig.

I blame the snow on Craig, who wondered why it wasn't cold like Wyoming. Seriously, Craig?

We made the most of it, going sledding at Rock Canyon.

If you die, it is your fault.

Tim.

Jonathan and Tim.

Jonathan.

Boring old scenery.

I don't know what Craig and his family did with the snow. They were 50 miles north, staying with Brent and Grace. We'll call and find out tomorrow. And probably join them again.

Meanwhile, it was a lovely quiet Christmas day with just the three of us.

Tree.

Dinner.

Goodness. Share it, guys.