stereotypical single woman

 I have a confession to make.

I am one of those people that loves holiday decorations. Outwardly I may complain that the stores have the santas next to witches in September, but that’s just because everyone else does and sometimes I have this horrible need to fit in. Secretly I am completely and totally pysched. It’s just one of those illogical and irrational things that makes the three year old in me so completely happy.

At the very least I have to put some sort of tree up every year. And I have a blast going from store to store looking for unique ornaments to add to my collection. It’s just something in my genetic make-up; in his hey-day my father could set up the tackiest and most obnoxious yard in the neighborhood. One side of it having a life-sized light up manger scene that included not only the three wise men, but the light up camel as well; and the other, more secular side, being a hastily thrown together composition of a 6ft tall Santa mannequin, elves, Santa train, and whatever yard ornaments Menards had on sale that year. And of course there were projections on the garage door. And Christmas music. We are such a classy family.

It makes it even more fun because the cats get as excited as I do about putting the tree up. So even though I might not always have someone to put up the tree with they are always more than willing to offer their assistance. Last year was a blast. They played in that tree every single day until I took it down. But this year I’m in a small studio, so instead of my big tree I bought a small but funky silver tree. I think it’s a lot of fun. Not so much the boys, they aren’t exactly thrilled with our little 3ft silver tinsel tree. Somehow this just doesn’t fit in with their idea of Christmas.