What Was I Thinking???

For the first time since we moved to our small town twelve years ago, we will be spending Christmas at home with only ourselves. Carl's family is celebrating the weekend before Christmas so that we can include family members that otherwise couldn't make it. My family is celebrating on New Year's so that we can include my brother's family. His wife is a professional photographer and is booked solid through Christmas.

Over the years I have become less and less interested in decorating my home for a Christmas it wouldn't experience. Last year I didn't retrieve a single ornament or light from the attic, not even the three-foot fake tree that's been my bah-humbug backup.

This year, however, I'm excited. Sure, we'll spend twice as much time on the road. But rather than a marathon of preparation and packing, we will have two more-manageable weekends between which we will spend a quiet Christmas morning at home opening presents in pajamas (we, not the presents, wearing the PJs) before we even comb our hair. I have no clue yet what we'll eat. Christmas feast? Or day-long snacking?

My excitement and anticipation have manifested as some bizarre Christmas craziness. I know from twelve years of traveling for Thanksgiving that I need recovery time after returning home--a good day or two of relaxing before I begin unpacking, before I begin laundry, before I begin even thinking about Christmas. Knowing this, what did I decide to do the Sunday after Thanksgiving?

Decorate.

Did I undertake my decorating project with any sort of plan in mind? Not really. Unless you call bringing every single Christmas doo-dad, every strand of lights, every box of imitation greenery down from the attic and into my tiny living room at one time a plan. While Carl and the girls hauled things down the attic ladder, I emptied my glass-front cupboard, creating an even larger mess. All the while I repeatedly played the only Christmas CD that hasn't been destroyed by Hannah and Carl burned some potpourri on the stove.

Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la...

Added to the madness: one seven-and-a-half foot, very fat Christmas tree. By 7:30 I was in bed, but the house looked festive. And messy. Very messy. I'm pleased with our Christmas tree, wound with small white lights as well as those fat, red retro lights. I love 'em. The ornaments are a hodgepodge of homemade kid projects, gifts from friends and family over the years and sentimental ones like "baby's first Christmas" and "our first Christmas." Some are a mystery--I have no clue where they came from. You can't tell all of that from this picture, but I'm posting it anyhow.




Notice I took a picture of ONLY the tree and nothing in the messy area surrounding it. The following picture is only one part of my own personal Christmas Ground Zero: my bedroom. Notice the suitcase still standing in the right of the picture. The green chair is a transplant, moved from the living room to make space for the tree.



In addition, I don't think we'll be eating at our dining room table any time soon, but I'll spare you that vision. And all of this after Liz the Whiz did her magic. (What would I do without you LtW?)

And what was I thinking?