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Christmas Love
I’m not a huge fan of Christmas. Most of the music annoys me. I hate shopping on a good day, so shopping among throngs of holiday bargain hunters does little more than piss me off. I even dislike putting up the damn tree. It’s more work than it’s worth. Why do I have to go through all that only to have to undo it a week later. No thanks.
Actually, the tree thing is probably more trauma related than anything else. Tree trimming with my mother was enough to turn Santa himself off of Christmas. Seriously, that woman could have pissed Jesus Christ off!
Every year it was a fight. And the fight was all over tinsel. Icicles to be exact. Tiny, thin strips of silver shiny stuff. I’d grab a handful and toss it at the tree. Let them land where they land.
Apparently, that’s the exact wrong way to do it. Mom would yell and scream and carry on about how I was ruining the tree. She had about 1000 individual strands of the silver crap laying neatly across her forearm which she’d place, one by one on the tree, carefully, with great deliberation. Ugggg! Ain’t nobody got time for that! Well, except her, I guess. Suffice it to say, it was not fun.
That baby in the picture above is 5 months old. That was probably the last time I enjoyed Christmas. I faked it for my kids when they were…
