Starting right after Thanksgiving, my mother has gone full-boar into Christmas decorating. This is probably to make up for the fact that she was so depressed that Prodigal Son was in Japan last year, she did no decorating, not even a tree.
I suppose I can’t complain: I do love Christmas decorating and some traditions. I’m a “secular humanist”, and therefore, celebrate “Secular Christmas.” Religious groups will try to get people back to the “true meaning” of Christmas: celebrating family, togetherness, and helping fellow men – all of which I fully support, but I will not adhere to the “religious overtones” of the season. I’m just not that into religion.
So, I have what my brother lovingly refers to as PS3 thumbs (aching, gnarled joints) from bending hundreds of wire loops to adhere ornaments to. I have two fatty cats who really enjoy sitting in the base of the tree; and if I can’t save the boughs of the tree from the cats, I will save the glass ornaments from getting destroyed when they launch in or out of the tree.
I also have to decorate the main banister at the stairwell. I think half the reason my parents bought the house they live in now is because of the Christmas-decorating-possibilities this banister has. I’m planning on festooning it with pine boughs, lights, and stylized poinsettias. It’s going to be epic.
In addition to home-decorating, I have a new berry-wreath for my office door, and lit pine-garland for around my door. I’m very excited, even if my next-door-neighbor co-worker is a huge Grinch (I feel that I can say this safely, as my girlfriend, K, is his wife, so I know him outside of work, too.)