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What is Christmas with no snow?

As you may or may not know, I live in Florida. Right now, it is 79F outside, sunny and it does not feel like Christmas at all. My inflatable snowman in the front yard looks a little ridiculous surrounded by green palm trees. Same goes for the Santa and the reindeers display since if Santa ever landed by my house his landing would have been really rough, having no snow and all. Or maybe his team is used to a grassy terrain?

So it’s Christmas…. but with no snow it is missing that…. je ne sais quoi. I can’t enjoy a hot beverage by the fireplace since I am already in a tank top and shorts. It is too hot to have the fireplace going. My only snowflakes are the ones I hung up on my tree (DIY for the win, ya’ll!!).

I probably should have gone to a snowy place this year. But money is tight and I don’t like to spend money on what I cannot afford. I am sitting on my couch, reminiscing my days in Europe. Honestly, I am re-reading parts of my book because the way I described Jenna’s snowy days in France are legitimately what takes me back to the days of snowy bliss.

So what is Christmas with no snow? Well, it is weird. It feels like something is missing. You may say Christmas is about Christ. Spending time with your family. For some it is about presents. And it is all that. But there is something even better about going to church on Christmas, marching through the snow, hiding your cold hands tucked deeply into your heavy jacket, breathing heavily into the wool scarf, and snowflakes falling on your head.

***Merry Christmas everyone!!***

Goddess a few times a week

I am not a goddess in most aspects of my life, but I sure as hell am when I go shopping. As a consumer in America, I get treated like a goddess. Those who have never been outside the States, don’t know what kind of hell awaits beyond the borders.
In Europe, for example, there’s no such thing as returning stuff without a receipt. There is no such thing as returning stuff and get money back. They normally give you in-store credit and that’s it. There’s no speaking to the manager to complain…the manager doesn’t give a sh*t.

Before you say that isn’t true, I will admit Europe has improved their customer service a lot in recent years. Specially Germany. They have really changed their communication with the customers. But Italy…just try returning something in Italy. Or Spain. Try complaining at a restaurant that you don’t like the food. They will kick you out of the restaurant for the audacity to say anything back to them.

Once my Mother bought something at a fancy Italian clothing store for me. Unfortunately, I was too fat to fit in their biggest size. When we tried to return it, they said (after good half hour of arguing with the ladies that work at the register-guess what, no customer service section there), that we can get in-store credit. I said: “But I am too fat for all your clothing, nothing fits me.” Did they care? No. Did they try to appease me? No.

I guess what I am trying to say is…next time you have to complain to the manager because you don’t like a product…or you want to return it…or perhaps you don’t like the way you were treated…be happy you have the option of doing that. Somewhere else they would tell you “too bad” or wouldn’t even talk to you.

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Family tree, relatives, people sketch

The strangers in your “family tree”

We got a call from David’s mother a few days ago. She was anxiously questioning David as to why he decided not to go to his cousin’s wedding. Her beautiful hand-written invitation was staring at us from the pile of mail…it was well-written. It was very inviting… It was everything a wedding invitation could be. But David never actually met the woman (he only heard OF her). She was a long, distant, far-away, remote cousin he would never recognize in person if he ever saw her on the street.

So, to give you some background, his family is more of I guess collectivist nature, if you will, and they place a lot of emphasis on the blood line. When he finally told his mother that he doesn’t even know this girl, she cried sadly into the phone: “But she is your family! You have to go!”

Her crying got me wondering….who is your family? Really and truly? The way my family works is like this: there’s me, my sister, her kids, my Mom and Dad. That’s it. Both my grandmothers and granddads are long dead and we have a super distant family in New York somewhere. Do we know what they do? No. Do we know anything about them? Not really. Would it be weird if they invited us to the wedding? Uh, yeah, kinda. Would we go? Probably not. We like to think people that matter are those that take the time to be in our lives. And just because they are family, we don’t owe them anything.

In case you are wondering, he ended up going (guess who was the lucky +1?) We met her and her husband, and they were rather nice. It was almost a beautiful moment…. the strangers that got married all of a sudden became our friends because after all….he was “family.”

Do you have similar connections with your relatives?

P.s: Thanks for taking the time to read, comment, like, share… ❤
P.s: My book is, as always, available on Amazon. Check it out!

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