I hope you're enjoying these last few days till Christmas as much as I am. Well, maybe not in reality, but here on the blog. When I began this, I had a few themes in mind, but there was one that never crossed my mind until I saw the picture.
Wait for it. You'll be glad you did.
So, I'm making Chocolate peanut butter balls today, and I have a few party foods to work on this afternoon, but one of my girls, (6th grader that I mentor on Wednesday evenings), will be putting up her Christmas tree later this evening.
Most have theirs up already. And this year, I went back to the tradition of getting it up on the Friday after Thanksgiving. Well, last week our group was humming Christmas Carols that we liked and the rest of us were trying to guess them, when she piped in while we all guessed the song, "O Christmas Tree."
"We," here she draws out the word like any good drama queen, "never put our Christmas tree up on the day after Thanksgiving." She pauses for effect. "Oh no." There a finger wag injected here. "Our mother's birthday is on December 17, sooo we wait and spend the evening putting up our Christmas tree then."
I won't go into the rest of the story, but her comment turned into a free-for-all discussion of real or artificial trees. The seven girls volleyed off one liners like pros. I do. We do. I have. We don't, I like, We cut," and the scene went on and on until one girl asked, Ms. Jai what kind of Christmas tree do you have?"
Without hesitation and finality in my voice, I replied, "Artificial."
Here I need to pause and explain. We don't know just how much we learn from our parents, Or possibly it is hereditary, but there are two things I learned from my mother.
I loathe making my husband's lunch (that story is for another time), and there isn't enough money or alcohol in the universe to get me to string lights on a Christmas tree ever again.
At our house, I put up a five, foot five inch prelit slim Christmas tree. There are several reasons, but the only one that matters is I don't have to string lights.
Evidently, I'm not the only one having problems with lighting. Today's sexy Santa seems to be in trouble. For him, I'll make an exception and lend a hand.
Wait for it. You'll be glad you did.
So, I'm making Chocolate peanut butter balls today, and I have a few party foods to work on this afternoon, but one of my girls, (6th grader that I mentor on Wednesday evenings), will be putting up her Christmas tree later this evening.
Most have theirs up already. And this year, I went back to the tradition of getting it up on the Friday after Thanksgiving. Well, last week our group was humming Christmas Carols that we liked and the rest of us were trying to guess them, when she piped in while we all guessed the song, "O Christmas Tree."
"We," here she draws out the word like any good drama queen, "never put our Christmas tree up on the day after Thanksgiving." She pauses for effect. "Oh no." There a finger wag injected here. "Our mother's birthday is on December 17, sooo we wait and spend the evening putting up our Christmas tree then."
I won't go into the rest of the story, but her comment turned into a free-for-all discussion of real or artificial trees. The seven girls volleyed off one liners like pros. I do. We do. I have. We don't, I like, We cut," and the scene went on and on until one girl asked, Ms. Jai what kind of Christmas tree do you have?"
Without hesitation and finality in my voice, I replied, "Artificial."
Here I need to pause and explain. We don't know just how much we learn from our parents, Or possibly it is hereditary, but there are two things I learned from my mother.
I loathe making my husband's lunch (that story is for another time), and there isn't enough money or alcohol in the universe to get me to string lights on a Christmas tree ever again.
At our house, I put up a five, foot five inch prelit slim Christmas tree. There are several reasons, but the only one that matters is I don't have to string lights.
Evidently, I'm not the only one having problems with lighting. Today's sexy Santa seems to be in trouble. For him, I'll make an exception and lend a hand.
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