There were all different kinds, some shaped like cows and dogs and even an octopus, crystal balls and shiny stars, and others made of cloth, bunnies, tiny teddy bears and an enormously fat cow.
Dozens of them, store bought, hand made. Each, it seemed, with it's own story.
Like the otter on its back, acquired because Allie looked like an otter when she was a baby in the bath. And the abundance of frogs because Sylvia loves frogs. Every year they pick up a few more.
On the big day, gathered around the tree and dug into our stockings. And into our stocking overflow bags.
Every year, the Johnsons stuff each other's stockings with neat little nicknacks and treats. They even wrap them, so you find yourself unwrapping a whole lot of presents. It feels kind of like being a spoiled little kid.
I got some carrot-flavored lip balm, philosophical post-its, gourmet dark chocolate, a kangol hat, fleese gloves, herbed barbecue skewers and a lot of other little luxury items I probably wouldn't buy but am glad I now have.
I got Allie a couple of pairs of earrings that she loves.
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