I've been blogging for quite a few years and I'd like to thank you, gentle readers, for following along.

It's time for Betty's Attic to move out of the blogging arena. (At least I don't need boxes, tape, trucks, and movers! If I had to move my real attic, I'd be in serious trouble!)

Today marks the last of my blog entries, but don't worry, I'll still have plenty to do.

I'll be on sharing on Facebook, tweeting on Twitter, pinning things to Pinterest, and  posting on Google+.

So just pop on over to your favorite social media site to find out what's new (and old) in The Attic!

Happy New Year. And thanks for the memories!

The tree is decorated, the lights are up, the gifts are wrapped, the stockings are stuffed, and the grocery shopping is done. I only have a few little chores to do before I settle in with friends and family to celebrate the holiday.

I hope you've had as much fun as I had finding retro gifts for the special people in your life. There's nothing like giving a memory for Christmas!

As we prepare to close the office for the weekend, I just wanted to take a moment to wish you all a warm, happy and safe holiday from all of us here at Betty's Attic.

Happy Holidays!

I think rushing around at the last minute is as much a Christmas tradition as soothing cups of eggnog and roaring fires. At least it is around our house.

My mom and I used to live for the rush. We'd jump into the cold car, crank up the heater, blast Christmas carols on the radio, and embark on a last minute adventure to find that "just right" gift for anyone we hadn't crossed off the list yet.

When I'd get a little frazzled, Mom would tell me, "Patience, little one, patience." I'd sigh heavily - mostly for effect - but I knew she was right. And my theatrical sigh was as calming as letting out a deep breath.

Looking back, I see my mom was a lot smarter than any of us gave her credit for.

At my age, the crush of the rush is harder to shrug off with a weighty sigh, but I've managed to kept the tradition alive with my kids. We just do our "rushing" online these days. Even if you're late out of the starting gate, the magic of the Internet makes it easy to get that "just right" gift delivered just in time for Christmas. Which is even better than endless cute kitty videos...at least in December!

Mom's rickety game table stands at the center of some of my favorite holiday memories. While the adults were busy with dinner, all the kids would set it up, lay out all the games we could find, and dust off the folding chairs so everything would be ready dinner was over. All of us played games after dinner - young and old.

Grandpa was the King of Charades. It didn't matter who he partnered with - his team almost always won. My sister was the best of the board gamers (except Monopoly - that was my territory!) and my cousin beat us all at any kind of card game. Mom loved word games and Dad liked puzzle games. It seems everyone was a champion at something.

We still have holiday game night. Believe it or not, everyone still plays. Even the kids put down their devices to join the games. We gather around Mom's old table to watch, play, and cheer. Tradition is important, but here's the main reason Game Night is so much fun: it brings everyone together for fun and a little competition. And every now and then, we're lucky enough to witness a new gaming champion emerge.

Louis Armstrong said those famous words when he was asked to define the rhythmic character of swing music.

It was a pretty good answer.

Swing jazz was (only slightly) before my time. My parents loved it. But I was into rock & roll. My parents didn't get it. To them it was a cacophony of meaningless noise. A lot of people felt the same way about the jazz music of the time.

Since my parents wouldn't let me play "that noise" on their hi-fi, I'd shut my bedroom door, drag out my suitcase record player, and disappear into the wonderful world of electric guitars, double drummers, and fantastical lyrics. "Turn it down!" was my parents' battle cry. Finally, they gave up on the "volume wars" and got me some headphones for Christmas. Smart.

Now my kids listen to music I don't understand. And I don't ask them about it. There's no point. Thanks to Louis, I already get it: I'll never know. That's okay. They don't know why I love Bowie, the Beatles, Elvis, or KISS - and they never will.

Giving fun t-shirts for stocking stuffers is one of our Christmas traditions, so the kids and I have a deal: we don't worry understanding each other's music - we just give each other the music tees each of us will love. There will be one difference this Christmas: now that they're getting older, they're starting to play their music "too loud!" like I did. So this will be the year my kids find brand new sets of headphones under the tree.