The Gift

The Gift

With all the hustle and bustle of the Christmas holidays, Samantha hadn't noticed the small package shoved in her kitchen hutch. It was under the Spode plates and behind the Santa saltshakers. In fact, if she hadn't been trying to find her red Santa dish towels, she may have never found it at all.

It didn't look like anything special. Wrapped in brown paper with red raffia, a hand stamped tag simply said: To Samantha. Love, Me.

It's probably Jeremy, she thought with a flash of warmth that spread from her chest all the way to her toes. Looking at the small box, she bit her lip and tried to ignore the whisper in her brain: Maybe it's a ring.

Samantha and Jeremy had been dating for more than three years now. And true, Jeremy was still struggling in carving a place out for himself at the new law practice he joined. And yes, it was true that he still had tons of student debt and the economy wasn't exactly hot right now.

But the box was small and hidden. What else could it be?

Running her fingers over it, Samantha resisted the urge to give it a shake. Her mind bubbled with images of Jeremy clinging glasses at Christmas dinner for a toast; perhaps sinking to one knee in front of the tree or pulling it out of her stocking with a flourish.

She heard the kitchen door swing open behind her and carefully slid it into her apron. Whirling around, she beamed as Jeremy shimmied toward her with a bottle of wine.

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!" he warbled, swinging the bottle around. "Oh what fun it is to ride a one horse open sleigh!"

"Have a little extra egg nog, darling?" Samantha teased, taking the bottle of wine from him before he broke it.

"Just a little," he admitted, holding his arms out wide. "A tad, a tiny bit. It is Christmas after all."

"It is," Samantha murmured. "And I got you something really special, darling! I think you'll like it."

"Great," Jeremy replied, his eyes focused on the pyramid of cookies on the counter.

Samantha waited a moment, then sidled up to him. "Did you get me anything special?" she purred, toying with his collar.

"Sure I did!" Jeremy said, shoving a cookie into his mouth. "I got you something you'll never forget! Something you'll treasure for your whole life!"

Samantha beamed and tried not to grasp at the package in her apron pocket. "I'm sure I will!"

Planting a sticky kiss on her lips, Jeremy snagged three more cookies and twirled out of the kitchen singing a drunken rendition of "Silent Night." Trying not to giggle, Samantha smoothed her hair and pulled off her apron. She patted the tiny package in the pocket and scurried off to go find her camera batteries. Tonight would be an important night, after all.

If only she had known what was in the package, she would have known just how important it would be. And she would have known just how wrong she was.

To be continued...

Welcome to the final week of Christmas at the Pond! There's all sorts of goodies for you, including a recap of the Shreveport Christmas Invasion 2008, the Babies' letter to Santa and a Christmas story from the Blond Duck's past that will make all your burned turkeys and fallen trees seem minor. We've also got a new Twirl and the end of Kitchen Magic, which will be a book shortly! Stay tuned and have a Merry Christmas!

The third date of the Fuzzy Duck and Rubber Chicken

First, I want to welcome all the Invisible Friends from SITS that may have wondered over to check out my new book, The Twelve Tales of Christmas. This whimsical collection of stories features everything from sweet Christmas romances under the mistletoe to fun children's stories. It was professionally edited by a published author.

• Read about Priscilla Piper, a little girl who hates her name and wants to be more like her classmates. When Santa grants her wish, she quickly realizes there's a lot more to a name than she thought.
• Meet James, a little boy who has one goal for Christmas: to make his sick mother smile the way she used to smile. When he heads to New York to get her favorite book autographed, he gets more than he bargained for.
• When Rosalita winds up at a costume ball on Christmas Eve, she's just looking forward to pulling off her Edwardian dress and having some pizza. But a mysterious stranger from her past will change everything...
• Iris wants nothing more than to fall in love for Christmas. But past holidays have taught her she's better off avoiding the mistletoe. When a job turns into something more, she begins to hope this is true love...

To order a copy, go here. Another way is to click on the blue button under the photo of my cover and go straight to the ordering site. You can also go to lulu.com and type in my name and the title or go to my store front here. I hope you enjoy it!


Now, since you're here, why not settle in and read about the Fuzzy Duck's third date with the rubber chicken? Fellow SITSta Nichole and I have been chronicling our fowl friends' budding love affair for awhile. The couple first discovered each other through a simple blog entry, then went on a date. Things worked out so well they went on a second date!

But this date, the Silver Nemesis of the Fuzzy Duck threatens to ruin their budding love affair!

Read all about it....

A scream tore from the charming pastel cottage on 897 Feather Lane.

"I have nothing to wear!" the Fuzzy Duck wailed, banging her wings against her closet doors.

"What about your gold webbed heels?" her friend the mermaid asked, balancing on her seahorse charge.

"So outdated," the Fuzzy Duck sniffed.

"Your red flirty fringe dress?"

"Too dressy," the Fuzzy Duck wailed.

"What about the pale blue skirt and leaf top?"

"Not Christmasy enough!" the Fuzzy Duck cried. Bursting into tears, she threw herself on the floor. "Whatever will I wear! This is my third date with the Rubber Chicken! He's taking me to the Gingerbread House!"

"Really?" Her friend the mermaid was impressed. "That's a really fancy place."

"I know!" the Fuzzy Duck wailed.

Finally, her friend peeled the Fuzzy Duck off the floor and styled her feathers. Cheered, the Fuzzy Duck set off on her date.


She got to the Gingerbread House early and went inside to wait. To her surprise, the Rubber Chicken was already waiting. He handed her a bouquet of flowers and blushed.




"You look beautiful," he stuttered. "Every time I see you...I just..."

"What?" the Fuzzy Duck murmured, keeping her beak downcast demurely.

"I can't believe a duck as gorgeous as you would want to see an old chicken like me," he finished, grinning sheepishly.

"Oh," the Fuzzy Duck whispered, turning pink. The couple were seated at their table in a dusky corner. After ordering an appetizer of gingerbread, the Rubber Chicken excused himself.



The Fuzzy Duck hummed to herself, shivering slightly in her seat with excitement. She had never met a chicken who could make her feel this way: heart pounding, webbed feet tingling, feathers standing on end.

And then she saw her worst nightmare threading through the crowd towards her.


"Hi, darling!" the Silver Bird cried, plopping down next to her. "How's it going?"

"Wonderful," the Fuzzy Duck snapped. "I'm on a date. Please leave!"



The Silver Bird giggled. "You? On a date?"

"With the Rubber Chicken," the Fuzzy Duck informed her.

"Really?" The Silver Bird cocked her head. "I hear he's quite wealthy." Preening, she settled into her seat. "I'll just wait to be introduced. After all, I'm sure he'd love to meet me."


Bustling about, she nested into the chair, knocking the Fuzzy Duck in the face with her long silvery tale. Seated next to the glimmering bird, the Fuzzy Duck suddenly felt like a ugly duckling.


"You need to leave!" she snapped. "This is a private dinner for two. The Rubber Chicken won't be happy you interrupted our date."



The Silver Bird cackled. "Darling," she cooed. "Be real. Look at me, and look at you. Whom would a rich, handsome chicken want to date? Honestly. What made you ever think you were worthy of a chicken like that? He was probably just being nice."



The Fuzzy Duck's eyes filled with tears. She looked at her mound of yellow fuzz and back at the sleek, glimmering plumage of the silver bird. She clamped her beak together and bolted towards the bathroom, the Silver Bird's triumphant cry echoing behind her.

Barreling into the bathroom, she flew into the side of a large yellow hen. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "Please excuse me."

"You poor little duckie!" the yellow hen cried, scooping her up in her wings. "Tell Edna what's wrong."

Her feathered chest heaving with sobs, the Fuzzy Duck poured out all the details of the date so far. The hen's eyes narrowed and her beak pinched together.

"What a terrible bird," she sniffed. "But darling, you must realize that the Silver Bird is wrong."

"What do you mean?" the Fuzzy Duck asked.

"Well if the Rubber Chicken wanted to date her, he would have," the hen said reasonably. "But it sounds like he's in love with you. Why are you going to let her steal one of the best things that's happened to you?"


"That's true!" the Fuzzy Duck cried, wiping her eyes. She threw her arms around Edna. "Thanks so much!"

"Go get your chicken!" Edna cried, clasping her wings together.


The Fuzzy Duck marched back to the table and thrust her feathers in the Silver Bird's face. "The Rubber Chicken likes me, not you," she snapped. "And I'm tired of you rubbing your silver glitter in my face. You're so mean and superficial. Leave now or security will escort you out."

The Silver Bird's beak dropped. " I never!" she cried, hopping off her chair. "How rude! I had a date with a peacock anyway!" Flouncing off, she swept her silver tail feathers out the door.

The Fuzzy Duck had just sat down when the Rubber Chicken joined her.




"I'm sorry that took so long," he apologized. "I arranged for us to go ice skating and on a hay ride after dinner."

The Fuzzy Duck beamed. "Perfect."

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have more Christmas fun, including sweet treats, tales of terrible Chihuahuas and more fun Christmas tales!

The last bit of Kitchen Magic

Before we read about whether Bizzy will accept Sprinkle's gift of magic--at the cost of losing her own forever--we have a 7 things Meme. My dear buddy Heather tagged me to talk about myself.

I do love to talk about myself. And Christmas. Therefore....

7 things about the Blond Duck and Christmas Meme

1) Muppet Christmas Carol is my favorite Christmas movie.

2) When I was in kindergarten and first grade, I went to a small private school that had a Christmas play. I was a firefly who swung my flashlight around and warbled along to "This Little Light of Mine." I much preferred the spring play where I was a Groovy Chicken (that's another story) and Little Red Riding Hood.

3) My ideal Christmas dinner would be chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, dinner rolls and apple or pecan pie.

4) I'd love to go caroling around the neighborhood but no one will let me sing for fear of liability of shattering other people's windows.

5) I saw Santa when I was five years old. I was at my Grandfather's in New Mexico and everyone was sound asleep. Suddenly, I heard someone rustling in the presents. They were literally about four feet away from me in my fold out couch bed. My eyes cracked slightly and I saw a man in red sprinkling presents. He had a big white beard and soft belly. My dad was tall and skinny with a dark beard and my grandfather was skinnier with no beard. I sealed my eyes shut and pretended to be asleep so Santa wouldn't take my presents back.

No one believes me.



6) This is my favorite Christmas CD.


7) This is my second favorite Christmas CD. Mom, it's at Wal-Mart. HINT.


And now, for Bizzy's hard decision....to read the previous nail-biting entry, go here.



"What is your decision?" the Head Kitchen Fairy repeated. "Sprinkles, do you agree to give up your magic for Bizzy, spending your days in a kitchen powerless without any ability to return to our world or help others?"

Sprinkles raised her chin bravely. "I do," she said, giving Bizzy a definite smile. She took the vial of glitter the Head Kitchen Fairy had given her and threw it in the giant cauldron. Pink fire exploded from the pot, fizzing out to sparkles that rained around them.

"Bizzy, do you agree?" the Head Kitchen Fairy asked. "With Sprinkles magic, you'll have her powers for 24 hours. Afterwards, you'll retain all her cooking knowledge and skills, even after the magic is gone."

Bizzy hesitated. She had dozens of people descending on her any moment expecting a gourmet Thanksgiving dinner. But she couldn't eat one bite knowing she had stripped Sprinkles of her powers for an eternity. Thanksgiving would be over in an hour, but Sprinkles would have a lifetime of tedium.

"Please," Sprinkles whispered. "Please Bizzy. This is the only way I can help you. If I don't do this, I'll have failed." Her eyes narrowed. "And I never fail."

Bizzy pressed her lips together, looking at the swirling liquid in the cauldron. Her eyes raised toward the Head Kitchen Fairy.

"You must choose," the Head Kitchen Fairy pressed. "Soon, before the window closes."

"Bizzy, come on!" Sprinkles urged. "Just say yes and throw your glitter in the pot."

"Cauldron," the Head Kitchen Fairy corrected.

"Whatever," Sprinkles muttered.

Bizzy's chest tightened. Her hand clutching the vial was slick and clammy. Gnawing on her lip, she looked at Sprinkles and back of the cauldron. She thought of her family's faces when they saw a brilliant dinner, expertly prepared with foods she could have never dreamed of. She thought of being able to throw dinner parties without hiding the paper and metal dishes, of cooking dates a romantic meal (if she ever got a date) and of creating tasty dinners that didn't have plastic cover and microwave instructions. Her life would be so easy. She would finally have a talent other than eating. She would be an artist, a culinary treasure. Maybe she could even write a cookbook.

Bizzy met Sprinkle's eyes, and she knew what she had to do.

"No," she said. Her hand squeezed around the vial and it exploded, the glass piercing her skin as the glitter exploded around her. "The answer is no."

The Head Kitchen Fairy nodded her head. Sprinkles screamed and tore at her hair. "You idiot!" she cried, grasping at Bizzy's bloody hand. "You can never have magic now!"

Bizzy nodded, woozy from the pain in her wrist. She watched the blood drip off her fingers onto the little disk she was standing on. Sprinkles snarled and whirled around.

"Please fix this," she cried to the Kitchen Fairy. "Please reason with her."

"She has spoken," the Head Kitchen Fairy replied, ignoring Sprinkles as she clawed at her feet. "It is agreed." She began to swing over the cauldron, her soothing voice trickling down as she sang in a foreign language that sounded like bells twinkling in a summer breeze. Suddenly, Bizzy was very dizzy. She closed her eyes and felt everything go black.

The next thing she knew, her mother was shaking her awake. Bizzy cracked her eyes open to see her entire family standing around her.

"What?" she snarled, peeling herself off the floor. "Haven't you seen anyone faint before?"

"Darling, what's wrong?" her mother asked, pressing her hand to her forehead. "We came over and the house was so still and you were laying here...you don't have a fever, do you?"

"Are you pregnant?" her dad asked, his fuzzy eyebrows knitting together.

"Oh God, a baby," her brother groaned. "Now she has to get married."

Bizzy pushed her mother off her and struggled to her feet. "I don't have a fever, I'm not pregnant and I'm certainly not getting married," she snapped. "I have to tell you something."

Her entire family looked at her. Gulping, she tried to search for the right way to begin. "I haven't been completely honest with you..."

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

To be continued....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow is the date of the Fuzzy Duck and Rubber Chicken! And we have a fun week up ahead as we continue the 12 days of Christmas at the Pond!

Ode to Christmas Cookies

First, before I drool too badly into my keyboard professing my love to Christmas cookies, I have to thank my buddy Marie. Marie is a wonderful cook, artist and just all around fabulous gal. She's so loving and generous that you feel like you get a giant hug every time you visit her site.



She awarded me with the honest scrap, an award given to bloggers you feel are honest. As Marie is nothing but truthful, it's a big honor.

Normally I'd choose a bunch of folks, but I'm tired. I'd rather talk about cookies. So first seven people, consider yourself tagged!

Dear Invisible Friends, I must also inform you I'm currently barreling down the road to Shreveport for In-Law Christmas Invasion 2008. My mother-in-law has no idea her kitchen is about to get annexed, her Chihuahua terrorized and her house transformed into the chaos of the Pond. If that's not enough, we're taking the swirl of chaos and clutter to my parents' house on Christmas Eve in Austin. So I may not get to visit ya'll until this weekend. Don't think I don't like you--I just don't have Internet in the backroads of Texas.

I have goats instead.


And now, for the drool...


Ode to Christmas Cookies and How I Love Thee



It's no secret I have a sweet tooth,
that last through out the year.
After all, I'm the sugar fiend,
the pie queen,
the one who can organize an entire social event around baked goods.





From rice krispies to cobbler,
I'm not very picky.
If it's got a bit of icing and some sugary topping,
I'll be more than fine.



But around Christmas, my heart starts dancing,
and my fingers start twitching.
My stomach rumbles and my butt gets to wiggling.
For Christmas means Christmas cookies.



Christmas cookies are different than other cookies, you see.
Whether cut out angels or pushed through a press,
Christmas cookies hold magic in their sprinkles.
Rolled, macarooned, dipped or squished into bars,
Every bite is a tiny burst of holiday joy.



Now I know everyone has their favorites and family traditions,
And I'm still trying to figure out mine.
But as a classy duck you can't deny,
that there's no going wrong with the traditional cut out type.
(Loaded with icing and sprinkles, or gravy as Daddy would say, can't hurt much at all.)

Even non-bakers can love Christmas cookies as much as I do,
With the magic of boxes and bags,
Add some milk and eggs,
Maybe some oil,
And you can come up with your own pans of frivolity.


O tub of dough, how I adore thee.
For you saved my butt the night before the office party.
Instead of measuring, rolling and chilling,
I gave into clever marketing.

I never said I was perfect. And how can you go wrong with a tub o dough?


Oh, ginourmous tub of dough,
How you inspire me.
For I'll barely touch a Christmas cookie now,
Since I can't stop imagining you plastered to my thigh.

But it's ok, o tub of dough,
Not even you can dampen my love of Christmas cookies.
After all, there's more than one cookie in the jar.
I could sample spritz, nibble on peanut butter or go after a nutty-honey mixture.



Slap me together some shortbread,
Pour on the pound cake.
Break out the pies,
Mix up the powered sugar icing.



For you see, dear Christmas cookies,
I've got a little secret of my own.
With seven days until Christmas,
there's a lot of holly jolly to sample,
and a lot of cookies to try.



It's a hard job, but someone's got to do it.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a new Kitchen Magic and on Sunday, the third date of the Fuzzy Duck and Rubber Chicken! Christmas is never ending at the Pond!

Twirling in one's footsteps

To see the previous edition of "Twirl", our never ending love affair of a star-crossed cowboy and ballerina, go here.

"Can I ask you something?" Wade repeated. His eyes were downcast and his cheeks flushed. Vivi gulped, a hard knot of peanut butter and bread lodging in her throat. Nodding, she grabbed the bottle of water and guzzled it, praying she wouldn't start coughing and ruin this moment. Her stomach was tied in knots and her fingers were making the edge of her peanut butter sandwich damp.

Wade fiddled with the brim of his cowboy hat, running his fingers over it. Vivi's heart was pounding in her ears. Finally, Wade took a deep breath.

"Would you want to come to dinner tomorrow?" Wade blurted out. "At the ranch with my grandfather? I mean, I know it's quick and we haven't known each other very long. I'm sure you got a million things to do this weekend but I just thought you two should meet."

Vivi let out a huge sigh of relief. "Sure," she chirped. "That'd be great."

"Wonderful." Wade beamed. "I thought you'd be ok with it, but I didn't want you to think I was too pushy or weird."

Vivi shook her head and smiled. "Not at all," she said, nibbling on her sandwich. Wade leaned back against a tree and took a swig of water.

"So tell me," he said, tearing off a chunk of his sandwich. "Why'd you get into dancing?" Vivi felt her spine tighten and tried to remind herself to breathe. She hated talking about her father and how she had become a dancer.

"I never had a choice," she said carefully, taking another bite. "My father put me in ballet when I was two. That was it."

"You said he was some big time dancer, right?" Wade said, popping a chip in his mouth.

"Basically," Vivi replied. She wasn't going to mention her father had been one of the world's top dancers. The last thing she wanted to talk about was the scandal that had sent them to Texas and away from New York and European culture.

"So if he's such a big shot, why aren't you dancing in New York or Russia?" Wade asked. "That's where ballerinas go, right?"

Biting her lower lip, Vivi stared at a blade of grass tickling her foot. "He ran into some financial trouble," she said diplomatically. "He had been a partner with my dance teacher for years, and they were great friends. When she came back here to take care of her ailing mother, he followed. They were going to run a studio together, but then I was born."

"That's pretty cool," Wade said, polishing off his sandwich. "It's like you were born into it, you know?"

"I know," Vivi replied bitterly. Wade's eyebrows drew together. Before he could say anything, Vivi burst out, "I know this is terrible of me to say, but I wish I wasn't born into it. I'm so tired of it. All the rules, the politics, the pressure. It's not fun anymore. That's why I wondered into the dancehall that one night. I'm tired of doing what's expected of me. In fact, I don't even know who I am."

"What do you mean?" Wade asked, arching his eyebrow.

Vivi placed her half eaten sandwich on a paper plate. "Like before I met you, I would have never thought I liked country dancing. I would have never ridden a horse." Wade grinned as she continued, waving her arms in the air to punctuate her words. "I mean, what else is out there that I like? What if I'm like a good photographer or would be a perfect doctor or something? How can I know what I want to do if I don't know what I can do?"

"That's a good point," Wade replied.

Vivi sighed and shook her head. "It's dumb," she replied. "All I'll be is a dancer. That's my destiny." She thought of Mrs. Angelson and Damien, and the favor she owed. Her stomach tied in knots and tears filled her eyes. Every step she took with Wade snarled her deeper into the mess her father had made.

Wade leapt to his feet and swept up all the leftover trash into a bag. He tied it onto the back of the saddle and held out his hand.

"Come on," he said, pulling her up.

"Where are we going?" Vivi asked as he pushed her up onto the saddle. Wade looked up at her, the sunlight dancing off his light eyelashes.

"You need to find out what you like, right?" he asked. Vivi nodded.

"Well darling, there's only one way to do that," he said, swinging himself over the saddle. Wrapping his arms around her, he rested his chin on her shoulder. His lips tickled her ear as he whispered, "An adventure."

With that, he spurred the horse and they were off like a shot. Vivi leaned against him as the wind blew through her hair and the grass flew by.

In that moment, she felt as good as when she was twirling.

To be continued....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have an Ode to Christmas cookies and Saturday, the third date of the Fuzzy Duck and Rubber Chicken!

King Ranch Chicken and Italian Cookies

Everything is bigger in Texas. Everything is cheesier, spicier, beefier and tastier.

It's a state law I say that. Though I do agree.


Meet King Ranch Chicken. No one's quite sure where this tasty little dish comes from, other than it's named after one of the biggest ranches in South Texas. Legend has it a ranch hand whipped this up, while others say it's a Texas twist on Chicken a La King. I don't particularly care either way. The only thing I need to know is it's good, easy to make and seriously Texan. And it is. So I'm done.


King ranch chicken is basically a spicy (but not too spicy) enchilada casserole. It's got corn tortillas, chopped chicken, Rotel and green chilies and plenty of cheese. I add black beans to mine for kicks, but it's not the traditional Texan way. If you really want to knock the socks off of the folks at home, make this the night before and let it marinate for awhile. I'll guarantee you that you'll have trouble not eating the whole pan in one sitting.

Not that I've ever done that. Ahem.

After such a flavorful dinner, it's a Texas rule that one must have a cookie.

I just made that up. But it sounds good doesn't it?



So if you have a hankering for sweets like I do 24 hours a day, why not mosey over to a basket of Italian cookies and see what happens?




Since the Blond Duck is always honest, I'll admit I goofed while trying to half the recipe and dumped too many eggs and then too much flour to overcompensate, turning out these sweet shortbread like treats. I loved them. That's all that counts.



A little icing and sprinkles can cheer up everyone's day. It's Christmas. We all need a cookie. Or three.


Or a basket, if you're me.


King Ranch Chicken the Blond Duck way

3-4 chicken breasts, boiled and chopped
1 can cream of chicken soup
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 bag sharp cheddar cheese
12 corn tortillas
1 can black beans
1 can rotel, drained
1 can mild green chilies
Chili powder to taste (I use a lot)
Onion and garlic powder to taste
A little extra cheese for sprinkling

Mix soup, rotel, chilies, black beans and seasonings in pot. Add cheese. Stir until cheese melts and mixture is somewhat warm. Cover greased casserole dish with tortillas. Spoon generous glob of mixture over it, then sprinkle chicken and cheese. Repeat layers two or three more times, depending on how much mixture and chicken you have. Cover top layer with tortillas and rest of mixture, then sprinkle some cheese. Bake at 375 for thirty minutes.

I never said it was healthy.

Italian Cookies from my favorite sweets book:
6 cups all purpose flour
2 T. baking powder
1/2 t. salt
3 eggs
1-1/2 cup of sugar
2/3 cup milk
1 T. vanilla extract
1/2 lb. shortening, melted and cooled
Sprinkles

Combine first three ingredients in a bowl and set aside. Blend eggs, sugar, milk and vanilla together, mix in cooled shortening. Stir into flour mixture. Drop by tablespoonfuls onto ungreased baking sheets. Bake 450 degrees for 8-10 min or until golden brown. Makes 6 dozen.

Frosting:
4 cups powdered sugar
1/4 cup milk
1/2 c. butter, softened
2 t. vanilla extract


Combine all ingredients into a large mixing bowl, blend on low speed for one minute. Increase speed to medium. Blend until fluffy about two minutes.

Stay tuned Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a new Twirl and Friday we have an Ode to Christmas Cookies and how I love thee. Saturday the Fuzzy Duck and Rubber Chicken go on their third date--and drama arises!

The Tale of the Christmas Chihuahuas and Desert Catz

Christmas has come early at the Pond.

On Friday night, while the wind blew cold, a package came from lands untold.


The Babies were curious and sniffed with all their might. Who sent these fine packages? What was inside? Why had they come this particular night?



Bear stuck his head in the bag and hopped away with a yelp.
"Hola!" a voice cried.


Two ears appeared and the bag rumbled with the sounds of a ravenous stomach. "I was promised quesadillas," another furry face frowned, licking his lips. "And sopapillas. And flan. And beef fajitas."




Queen Bitty snarled and glared at the newcomers.
"What are you doing here? Who are you? I'm Queen Bitty, and I'm the boss around here."



"It's true," Bear wuffled mournfully. "She's took all the chew sticks and is charging an exorbitant amount to get them back."

"Demand skyrocketed!" Bitty snapped back.


The Chihuahuas grinned and hopped into the tree.
"We are from the Land of the Catz,
the desert of hairballs and catnip.
They sent us to bring you Christmas cheer
And a gift, a peace offering you might say."




"Peace?" Bitty snarled. "There will be no peace!"

One of the Christmas chihuahuas smiled. "Even for a new toy?"



"Well." Bitty did love new toys.



And toys they were! New and fresh and just ready to be ripped to shreds.



The Babies pounced on them in the kitchen.



They dragged them into the living room.



They even tried to make the penguin toy more comfortable by removing his hat. They didn't bother to ask if he wanted it removed, but they were the hosts of the evening.



By the end of night, the Babies and Christmas Chihuahuas were friends. As the strains of "Feliz Navidad" filled the air, the evening was full of Christmas bliss.



After all, it's not often some mysterious Catz* from the desert send you a gift.

I suppose you could say it's some Christmas magic at the Pond.

*= The Catz are real cats belonging to my aunt and uncle, Lana and Corney. For this blog they have been made into mystical Christmas beings for the sheer fun of it.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a true Texas recipe, King Ranch Chicken and Italian Cookies. Thursday we have a new Twirl and Friday and Ode to Christmas Cookies. And don't you worry--the cookie stealing bunny will be back Saturday for a new date of the Fuzzy Duck and Rubber Chicken!


And did you read about my new book? Go here!