Hi, Old Friend.

On Saturday night, I was cleaning up the kitchen from dinner and Stevie was taking out the trash. He came back in the house and said, "Kris, you've got to stop what you're doing and come out here."

I stepped outside and whoa. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it.

It wasn't just cool - it was cold. It was like I had stepped out onto the dark porch and back into a memory, one from our days in Boston. Walking home from dinner in Harvard Square and snuggling up together as we meandered those cobblestone streets in the black night, the chilly autumn weather dancing all around our feet. It was wonderful and sweet and, wow, life was really simple then. Even though it didn't feel like it at the time.

And as I stood, barefooted on my own back porch, far far away from the life I journeyed in Cambridge, Massachusetts a few years ago, I was swept away in that memorable moment. Such a simple one. All because of the strikingly cold weather. It's enticing, what our senses can do for us.

Stevie and I just stood out there for a long while, feeling the hard porch wood beneath our feet and the cold enveloping all around. We took deep breaths and silently welcomed this old friend, this autumn chill signaling it's time. Time for knotty sweaters and mulled cider and crackling bonfires and apple picking and fan girl phenomena about all things pumpkin. Time for walks through Williams Sonoma with to-go cups from Starbucks to sniff out all the harvest recipes. Time for watching football in the living room, eating chili and knitting blankets that I will never finish. Time for Sunday afternoon naps and woolly socks and sloshing around in the crispy leaves. It's time for all of it. It's beginning again. Welcome, old friend. Have your way.

The 3rd Day: Memories of Christmas Past.

Memories of Christmas Past.

I'm just gonna go ahead and admit that this is my FAVORITE post of all the countdown to Christmas posts this year. One of the benefits of moving back home has been going through my mom's old photo albums and digging up the hilarious/precious/atrocious photos of the past. When I was growing up, my parents were really good about photographing Christmas especially, because it was SUCH a big deal in our family. They worked really hard to give us beautiful, outrageous Christmases. I was a blessed little girl. I wanted to share some of the photos from these past Christmases of my life, because, well, they are pretty awesome. And looking through these photos really does spark the memory of the moment.

My second Christmas. Despite what the pillow states.

Can we talk about my parents here. THOSE GLASSES. Warby Parker would be proud.

I don't think the cookies were my gift. And yet.

THAT HAIR.

My family holds a high value for bath robes. Clearly, that indoctrination started early.

Also, my sister is wearing pearls. SUCH A GIRL FAMILY.

I can't ever remember my mom having her nails painted like this. That phase must have ended with the 80's.

The year I was in a kid's choir and our Christmas special was ON TV. Little did I know, it would be the peak of my fame.

The year I got my American Girl doll. I begged for that thing for a full year. I especially love my little sister's face, because she was anticipating it almost as much as me. PRICELESS.

The year me and my younger sis knew all our gifts.

Can you tell? I mean, we knew ALL OF THEM. Such little fakers.

Christmas Future.

I mean, this just makes me smile. Being a new parent this year, I am inspired all the more to capture the important moments that Everett is experiencing. In just two days he will be celebrating his FIRST Christmas and we will be on our own parental journey of continuing the tradition of over-photographing, probably over-gifting, and overly-enjoying the joy of surprising kids on Christmas. Hip hip hooray, the day is almost here!