There’s a new dusting of snow outside the stained-glass window along with a cool breeze sneaking beneath the front door. Houses all over Falls Creek are decked out with red and green lights along with flocked wreaths and trees. Listen carefully, and you’ll hear the melodic sounds of carolers in the streets. All blatant reminders that the Christmas holiday is almost here—not my favorite time of year. I’m not a scrooge or anything. The cold air affects the blood supply—making it harder to get and keeping what is available too chilled—but I prefer a more hospitable climate like the French Riviera until the temps warm up. That’s where I went before Luc moved us to the States.
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