So there.
My Christmas always begins when my parents' neighbor brings over our Christmas countdown candle. This year I actually burnt it every day. Okay, I'll be honest. I started slacking at the very end.
But that's a big improvement for me.
I put up my two fake trees back in November. Then hubby took me to buy a real tree.
We couldn't resist this one. It's so different. So, Charlie Brown tree-ish. But not. The best part is we are going to plant it in the backyard when Christmas is all over...and in our house that might not be until Easter.
But, we needed a traditional Christmas tree too. That's two, two real trees, ah, ah, ah.
Sorry, the Count from Sesame Street just possessed me. I can't promise that won't happen again.
I've heard many theories that you don't truly love Christmas if you don't have a real tree. I won't say my stance on the topic, but I'd like to just comment that those who don't have more than one tree might be in the same boat.
That's all I'm saying.
This is my fun tree. The one where anything goes with the ornaments.
Like this one. Hubby bought it for me this year. My secret career aspiration, from when I was probably 10 or saw Apollo 13, whichever came first, was to be an astronaut. Unfortunately, there are a lot of reasons why that would never work for me. Number one being that I was never very good in science class.
Now this seems a little more appropriate for me. I broke this ornament when I was unpacking it. You can hardly tell, but those keys are being held on by hot glue.
Somehow, I'm lucky enough to be able to spread my Christmas out for three days. This is all because I have a husband who thinks celebrating Christmas Eve Eve with me is fun, and not crazy. So every Christmas Eve Eve, we wait until about 8 and open our presents to each other.
Isn't it beautiful? I wish I had taken a picture of them all wrapped up too, because hubby tends to make them look like a piece of artwork. But this looks just as good. I let the living room sit like this well into the afternoon the next day.
Then I piled a similar looking situation into my car as we headed out to celebrate Christmas Eve with my side of the family.
Okay, hubby piled it all in the car. I watched from the front door and cheered him on.
My mom recently started buying Christmas crackers for Christmas Eve. If you've never done these before, be warned, they are strange.
And depending on the type of cracker, can be very addicting. These crackers had whistles in them. My SILs and I became absorbed in creating music with them once everyone else had grown tired.
My third day of Christmas, was spent with my in-laws, then my grandmother, then my in-laws again. I don't think I could have asked for a better day.
Hubby and I decided to try a little bubbly for New Year's. We rarely do this simply because we don't really know much about the varied world of alcohol.
This one seemed good enough as any.
Perhaps you've noticed the lone champagne flute next to the bottle. As hubby was washing the champagne flutes from our wedding (A task that I thought to myself, "Perhaps I should do this. Hubby is so strong like the Hulk, he sometimes doesn't know his own strength. Something as delicate as a champagne flute may just crumble in his hands," yet I ignored my instincts and let him--translation: I was too lazy to stop him and do it myself) I heard a clang and then a, "I knew that was going to happen," come from the kitchen.
This kind of thing usually doesn't really bother me. I'm sentimental, but I'm also realistic. I have about a zillion other memories from my wedding that our champagne flutes being broken shouldn't really upset me. But I guess I was feeling a little punchy, so I went into the kitchen and said sadly, "That was from our wedding!".
To which hubby topped my nonsense by saying, "You're from our wedding too. At least you're still here,"
Boy oh boy, how I love this man.
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