Charlie Peterson and the Christmas Village
It took years to configure my Christmas village. Every house and fir tree and miniature character was precious to me, and I could hardly wait to arrange the entire little community over the top of our entertainment center every Yuletide. But I wasn't stupid. Christmas villages were really just grownup versions of doll houses for women like me sharing houses with husbands and sons who agonized over NFL teams and peed on toilets. We deserved something, too. Kenny, me, Tommy. 2006 My Christmas village boasted a towering lit Cathedral - which didn't necessarily blend well with the cozy antique shop or the quaint corner grocer - but nevertheless filled me with delight. A couple staring dreamily at each other over steaming mugs of coffee shadowed the window of the local restaurant, and all throughout the village were busy shoppers, children on sleds, and romantic skaters drifting arm in arm around the frozen pond. Life was perfect in the Christmas village. If only for a