It’s early morning and I’m waiting for Michael to wake up so we can open our Christmas presents. The little kid in me wants to pinch his nose until he wakes up to speed things along, but Santa still has time to take away gifts if I’m naughty.

I’ll be nice and sit here, try to be patient, sip my coffee and type out a Christmas message to all of you.

Here in Edmonton, it is -24C (-29C with wind chill) this morning. The sky is inky black, with vapour clouds looming over the buildings. It is deliciously quiet. No trucks blading the accumulated snow on the roads, no brain spearing beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep of snow removal equipment stuck in reverse. All I hear is the hum of the refrigerator, the crackling Shaw fire log on TV, and the assuring tink tink BANG tink tink THUD of our hot water pipes heating our place so it is cozy (some say unbearably) hot. One little nudge on the thermostat and we are plunged into cardigan and sock donning chilliness. So we take hot.

Thank you for reading Walsh Cooks. I enjoy writing this little blog of mine, and if it makes you smile, teaches you something, makes you roll your eyes, or even have a laugh, I am content.

To each of my viewers, from the one who tip-toed in from the Seychelles, to the hundreds of you from the UK to the thousands in North America, and everywhere else in between; whether you have children running amok this morning, if you are happy, sad, alone, too busy, too big, too small, sick, in pain, hungry, a bit kookie, homeless, deliriously happy, lonely, trying to sell me Ugg boots or in a place of heavenly peace, I wish you all joy and the miracles of the season.