I love Christmas. Love decorating, making my house look festive. There’s the tree covered in ornaments that I’ve acquired over the years. As I place each ornament on the tree I remember where I got it or who gave it to me. In 2001, I went to Germany to visit a couple of friends and we attended every craft and street fair that was held. My biggest purchases were Christmas related. My friend, Ron, gave me a hand-blown blue glass heart back in 1999. Traditionally, it’s the first ornament placed on the tree each year. Ma crocheted angels for all of us one year. Mine is near the top of the tree.
And, of course, my favorite Christmas tradition of all is the day-after-Christmas sale at Dillards. I won’t go anywhere near civilization on Black Friday, but I’ll camp outside Dillards on Christmas night in order to be the first in the door on Boxing Day. All their ornaments at 50-75% off. My heart races just thinking about it.
In addition to the tree, I have wreaths, handmade stockings (10 this year to include all the critters,) tons of snowmen (they melt your heart, you know?) and just about every Santa made. My favorite non-tree decoration is a nativity that was made by my ex-brother-in-law and ex-sister-in-law. I like the nativity so much that I never took it to the Slope. I was afraid it would get broken. Last December when my household goods arrived from Alaska, I found the nativity. I was so excited to display it. Thrilled really. Then I realized, that maybe it wasn’t right for me to have it instead of my ex-husband. After all it was made by his family. It’s my prized possession and he didn’t even remember it. Thank God, men are clueless. I would’ve wept if I had to part with those adorable camels!
I’m sure by now, you all realize that my favorite thing in the world is cooking. Christmas is the ideal time to embrace my baking obsession. Normally, I’m done with all my baking by this time, but I was in Alaska and missed the post-Thanksgiving time that I usually devote to baking. No fear though. Yesterday I dove into the flour bin and began my quest to send all my family and friends into diabetic comas. In my opinion, you’re not baking unless you approach is with reckless abandon. You can see the results of my theory…
I should have all the dough scraped off the ceiling by the time my guests arrive on Sunday.