I caught the spirit much earlier than usual this year. It's usually not until a couple weeks before Christmas that I give in and allow the hoopla to take over the house. The weekend after Thanksgiving, still drunk on gravy and stuffing, I ventured into the place where the mouse lives to retrieve the Rubbermaid containers I store our Holiday Decorations in. Who knows why I started so early this year. Usually I call my friend T and tease her for decorating the minute the turkey leftovers get placed in the fridge. This year I had to hang my head in shame as she breezed in past the holiday wreath on my own front door. It doesn't matter. The point is, I got the stuff out. As always I was shocked and dismayed at how little there was in them. There went my spirit *whoosh* I wanted something big, something that said the season has changed and we're on top of it. Something magical and lovely. Most of what was in the container was meant to go on a mantle, the outside of the house, or a tree.
We no longer have a mantel so the stockings and hangers remain in the box. Besides, there's the baby now and I think he will notice if he doesn't get a stocking this year so I have to get four 'cause they have to match. (Yes they do!) So far I have not found four stocking that I like enough to spend the outrageous amounts they put on their price tags.
I guess on Christmas Eve we will have to go old school on Santa's ass and hang our socks at the end of the bed. I would use one of sweeties because they're huge but I'm sure anything put in there would forever be tainted by his foot stink. It won't stop him. On Christmas morning he will sit there sniffing every damn thing that comes out of his sock and I will say "Jeezus, it's the same smell every time!" the way I do in the evenings when he takes his work socks off and sniffs both of them in turn, encouraging the children to join him. The kids will all eagerly come forward to have their turn sniffing the unholy stocking stuffers and wrinkling their noses saying "eeeewww stinky!". The holidays really are the best time of the year.
The lights that should be on the house right now are still in a wad waiting for sweetie to hang them. The roof is his realm. He's been putting me off by mentioning the cold and how slippery the roof must be. Now that I've thought about that it occurs to me that it's pretty damn icy every December in most places and they have farkin' lights. He's just not that into it. His parents never hung lights. He doesn't get it. He doesn't know that no matter how bad it is, no matter if there's not enough money for a holiday feast or if you're not going to get anything but the shit people donate to a toy drive at Christmas or if your parents are fighting or you just hate everything there will at least be lights twinkling in spite of it. They will twinkle and glow and warm your weary spirit no matter what. I told him all that and he pointed out that we are going to eat, give and be merry so why should he fall off the roof trying to hang lights. He expects me to eat, give and be merry knowing the outside of our house is without twinkle? I guess I will have to suck it up and let my fear of falling be damned, I know there's enough rope to tie the baby to the chimney while I hang the twinkles. There will be lights!
The tree stuff mostly consisted of a million of those shiny balls that enlarge your nose when you peer into them, a few assorted ornaments I actually like, ornaments that were gifts or hand-made and the ones my mom gives to the kids that are really just ugly little stuffed animals with a hook. Now listen, it isn't that I'm against the balls. They're cheaper than other holiday ornaments and pack a lot of shine, I get that. I just don't need so many balls. That's all we freakin' have!
Last year our tree was ball to ball. Seriously, the balls were on that tree so tight you could hear a tinkling sound if you stepped down hard next to the tree. Balls, balls, balls. Balls do not tell a story of Christmas past, they are not a wish for Christmas future and they make a terrible, terrible present so don't give anyone a box of balls this year. Unless they want balls. Or ask for them. *ignoring all the snickers every time I say Balls* All of this is moot now of course because we u-cut the largest Christmas tree ever and need every ball we can get.
Your town probably has a large tree on display somewhere. Picture it in your mind. My tree has shit trees that size. Seriously! I cut branches off this tree as big as other people's Christmas trees, just to trim it up a little. If we had not chosen this tree they probably would have had to cut it down to keep it from blocking the sun from shining on all the other trees. This tree is a testament to the fact that being outdoors surrounded by trees and air and forest and blue sky makes me high.
When we wandered around trying to choose a tree we knew this tree was big but it wasn't until we could barely get it through the door that we really understood the majesty that is this tree. This tree is out of control! I love it. Every glorious smelling needle. I love the shiny balls, I love the ugly ornaments, damn it ugly is their Christmas story! Most of all I love the lights. You cannot have too many lights on a tree. It's big, it's beautiful and when you enter the house and peer up into its lofty branches you cannot help but know that the season has changed and we're on top of it.
December 2007
