Death by mallow

We're a little more than two weeks into the new year, and it seems Christmas has gone as quickly as it came. I did my shopping early this Christmas, avoided last minute holiday stress and basked in my favorite time of year by baking a variety of cookies for anyone who would eat them. 

Now, the busy season is over. My tree was hauled to the curb about a week ago, taking with it the woodsy, seasonal scent of Frasier Fur. Decorations have been stored in the garage, and to the relief of waistlines all around me, my kitchen has become a no-bake zone. 

It will be a while before Christmas comes 'round again, so until then, I'll have to get by on the wonderful memories this Christmas season gave. Admittedly, I've been spoiled by a lifetime of wonderful Christmases. Trampolines, go-carts, air hockey tables, bikes, — those were the type of unexpected treats that made sleeping on Christmas Eve nearly impossible. We were truly blessed and somehow managed to never break any bones with the toys we were given.  

I may be older, but I still get that feeling in my stomach on Christmas Eve. It's not because of what I hope to find waiting under the tree, but rather for the day I know is in store. The house will be filled with family and the aroma coming from the kitchen will be too much to bear waiting for. 

As my brothers and I have gotten older, I've always tried to do little things to keep the spirit of Christmas as exciting as when we were younger. Silly, inexpensive gifts that bring out the childlike nature in us all. This year, my boyfriend's mom had the same thing in mind. 

The picture above is me with my boyfriend's sister, Mandy, and her husband, Justin, on Christmas morning before we'd opened our gifts. Margaret handed out four gifts, identically wrapped, and made us open them together. 

To our surprise, she'd gotten us each a marshmallow gun. War of the Mallow soon ensued — mini-marshmallows flew through the air as we pelted each other and canvased the house. There's no mercy when your weapon fires not-so-menacing marshmallows.  

Ty's dad, Butch, even managed to get in on the action. Butch would cover his eyes as Mandy used his mouth for target practice. Throughout the day, we shot at anyone and everyone we knew. We took the guns to my parents' house and shot up the place, and later we ambushed unexpecting friends as they came up the front steps of my house.

The concrete outside my home is still stained with tiny white dots from our marshmallow shoot out, but I don't mind. It's nothing more than the sugary, sweet marks of a wonderful holiday season. 

(I've posted two videos to the right. The first shows Mandy shooting marshmallows at Butch — who has his eyes covered, but says once the war ends, "I think I  have a black eye now." The second video, is from our ambush at my parent's house of my brother's girlfriend, Katye. We wish her a Merry Christmas and send some mini-mallows her way. The dogs soon ambushed her too — to eat all the marshmallows. Bella (the westie) later got sick.)