Ready or not, here it comes the holiday season is upon us and I’m not at all prepared.  On the upside this is my sixth week as facilitator for this wonderful group of blogging authors. 

As this page goes live it’s November 28, the dawn of my 41st wedding anniversary.  (No. This isn’t this week’s photo prompt 😉 )

Now that you’ve oo’d and ah’d over my vintage wedding picture here are the “rules”:

• Depending on your preference, leave your blog link  in the comment section or use the linkz tool (or both ;)). My story follows for those who’d rather not read it before writing their own.
• Please make sure your link works. If you find that you’ve made an error you can delete by clicking the little red ‘x’ that should appear under your icon. Then re-enter your URL. (If there’s no red x email me at Runtshell@aol.com. I can delete the wrong link for you).
• If your blog requires multiple steps for visitors to leave comments, see if you can simplify it.  Please, for the sake or our writerly nerves, disable CAPTCHA –that wavy line of unreadable letters and numbers.  It’s frustrating to have to leave a DNA sample, your blood type and your shoe size  just to make a comment. (So I exaggerate. But hopefully you get the picture).
• Challenge yourself to keep stories to 100 words. (There’s no penalty for going over or under).
• Make note in your blog if you’d prefer not to have constructive criticism.
• Be kind in your comments to others. Exercise discretion.
• ABOVE ALL–HAVE FUN
  

  Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Many thanks for all the well wishing on our anniversary. As always, Jan sent roses to the restaurant. I have to kvell. My husband’s an incurable romantic and hasn’t missed a November 28th in all these years. 

Now without further adieu, here’s my story. 

LAYAWAY

           “One more cheesy rendition of Jingle Bells and I’m outta here.”  

            After seven hours of checking out surly customers on swollen feet Carla’s holiday spirit reached its lowest ebb.  As she slammed her register drawer a burst of warm fluid soaked her pants.

            An associate helped her to a pallet on the dressing room floor. Another called 911.

            A hard contraction sent pain-waves through her spine. The paramedic spread her legs and shoved his hand between them.

            “Ten centimeters.”

             Carla pushed.

            “It’s a boy!”

            The overhead speakers blared with Burl Ives singing.    

            “Jingle bells, jingle bells. Jingle all the way…”