Tag Archives: Christmas

A Dozen Things To Do With A Dozen Roses

4 Jan

1. Here are 12 roses for every wonderful month the past year I have loved you.

2. I wanted to give you a rose for your smile- then I remembered your laugh, your eyes, your hugs, your kisses, your personality, our moments together, our hopes, our happiness, our dreams together, our memories, and most of all, our love.

3. There are 12 hours on the clock- on each one I think of you- here are 12 roses to let you know.

4. Give 11 real roses and one fake saying, “I will love you until the last rose fades.”

5. Here are 2 dozen roses- one for every hour I think of you ever day.

6. Be Mine.

7. King Arthur had a dozen knights to protect his kingdom, I wanted to give you a dozen roses to protect your heart.

8. I want to give you 12 roses- one for every month this year I want to love you.

9. I’d be lost without you- here’s 2 dozen roses to remind you of me every hour.

10. A rose for each day of Christmas- marry Christmas!

11. A bouquet of 12 roses dozen’t match your beauty.

12. It takes 12 inches to fill a foot- here are 12 roses to fill your hands.

See 49 Meanings Of Roses for more ideas.

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12 Romantic Couples in Christmas Lights

25 Dec

Gift of the Magi

24 Dec

Gift of the Magi

By O Henry

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one’s cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name “Mr. James Dillingham Young.”

The “Dillingham” had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called “Jim” and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn’t go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling–something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pierglass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim’s gold watch that had been his father’s and his grandfather’s. The other was Della’s hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty’s jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della’s beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: “Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds.” One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the “Sofronie.”

“Will you buy my hair?” asked Della.

“I buy hair,” said Madame. “Take yer hat off and let’s have a sight at the looks of it.”

Down rippled the brown cascade.

“Twenty dollars,” said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.

“Give it to me quick,” said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim’s present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation–as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim’s. It was like him. Quietness and value–the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends–a mammoth task.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.

“If Jim doesn’t kill me,” she said to herself, “before he takes a second look at me, he’ll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do–oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?”

At 7 o’clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: “Please God, make him think I am still pretty.”

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two–and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

“Jim, darling,” she cried, “don’t look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn’t have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It’ll grow out again–you won’t mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!’ Jim, and let’s be happy. You don’t know what a nice– what a beautiful, nice gift I’ve got for you.”

“You’ve cut off your hair?” asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

“Cut it off and sold it,” said Della. “Don’t you like me just as well, anyhow? I’m me without my hair, ain’t I?”

Jim looked about the room curiously.

“You say your hair is gone?” he said, with an air almost of idiocy.

“You needn’t look for it,” said Della. “It’s sold, I tell you–sold and gone, too. It’s Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered,” she went on with sudden serious sweetness, “but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?”

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year–what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.

Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

“Don’t make any mistake, Dell,” he said, “about me. I don’t think there’s anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you’ll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first.”

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs–the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims–just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: “My hair grows so fast, Jim!”

And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, “Oh, oh!”

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

“Isn’t it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You’ll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it.”

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

“Dell,” said he, “let’s put our Christmas presents away and keep ’em a while. They’re too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on.”

The magi, as you know, were wise men–wonderfully wise men–who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

Christmas Wedding

23 Dec

10 Romantic Christmas Quotes

22 Dec

Christmas is not as much about opening our presents as opening our hearts.
Janice Maeditere

Christmas will always be as long as we stand heart to heart and hand in hand.
Dr Seuss

Every time we love, every time we give, it’s Christmas.
Dale Evans

I want that amazing Christmas kiss. You know, the one where you’re under the mistletoe, not even realizing it, and all the sudden he comes up and cups your face in his hand and kisses you, and his kiss leaves you completely breathless? Yeah, that one.

Remember this December, that love weighs more than gold!
Josephine Dodge Daskam Bacon

It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air.
W T Ellis

Nothing else will do. All I want is you this Christmas.
N Sync, All I Want is You This Christmas

Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.
Norman Vincent Peale

Christmas is most truly Christmas when we celebrate it by giving the light of love to those who need it most.
Ruth Carter Stapleton

Like snowflakes, my Christmas memories gather and dance – each beautiful, unique and too soon gone.
Deborah Whipp

7 Romantic Christmas Morning Moments

21 Dec

Cinderella Christmas Morning Proposal

20 Dec

A very beautiful, romantic Christmas morning proposal- Cinderella style!

Goodbyes – Christmas Special Story

19 Dec

It was Christmas again when the streets were covered with snow. And, everywhere you turned, things looked pristine white. Dana loved Christmas time. She thought Christmas was magical, and secretly believed in Santa Claus. She loved the colorful lights, Xmas trees, and the snow fall. It made everything even more beautiful!

Most importantly, Dana felt loved and treasured for it was the time when everyone showed how much they cared. Friends and relatives showered gifts on you too. And Dana knew that if you were lucky, your beloved would show you how much they love you.

Dana had all of the above in her life, apart from the ‘special’ someone. She wanted Santa to gift her with a ‘special one’ for Christmas, a ‘special someone to love’. Not that she was desperate. It was just that Dana wasn’t too good at relationships. So, she couldn’t help but be jealous when she saw her friends with the loves of their lives!

Whenever she saw her best friend Janet and her boyfriend Ron together, Dana would squirm. She would feel sad. Especially when he’d hug Janet close from behind and kiss her cheek. Even a stranger could tell that Ron was head over heels in love with Janet, and vice versa.

Dana missed a Ron in her life. A Ron who would do little things for her. A Ron who would write little love notes and put them in her jacket pocket, or kiss her mad. But Dana did have a Ron once, back in her high school. It was Logan Smith. She remembered everything about him – his smile, laugh and the way he looked when he was upset or angry.

His eyes were a dark shade of blue. When he looked at Dana, she would feel lost. They were great pals. They had never gone out, although everyone said they should. Everyone thought they were perfect for each other.

Read the rest of the story at: Short Story Book (it’s free)

Romantic, Fun Christmas Wedding Video

17 Dec

15 Romantic Christmas Weddings

15 Dec

Christmas is such a magical time- a perfect time for a wedding! The lights, flowers, and decorations are already up. Everything is bright and green. There’s snow falling, everyone is happy. It’s a perfect time to combine red and white- they look beautiful together and it brings the purity of white with the passion and sensuality of red.

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