Black Friday Saturday
As most of you know (from direct personal experience or, failing that, from someone relating tales of same) the day after Thanksgiving is the heaviest shopping day of the year and as such, it's been christened "Black Friday."
Fine.
For me, the day that deserves the moniker is the day after that because that is the day my wife invariably stresses out, glowers, shouts and otherwise lets loose with all the feelings she's bottled up for a year. This is the day all the Christmas stuff gets placed in its, um, place. Shipping containers, weighing tons each, must be dragged down from their place of dormancy. The voyage is perilous and precarious and dust is liberally applied to our breathing passages and retinæ with each one that is brought forth.
Then the tree's lighting system must be assembled, its failure to light up scrutinized, the various checks performed, oaths and imprecations muttered darkly. Ornaments must be examined, those which fared poorly in their year of storage jettisoned and replaced.
To say nothing of the fact that Christmas music must play throughout this decoration endeavor.
Any and all failures are my fault and, even those which are not my fault, they will be put on my account, for the sake of expediency. Sometimes, if I am very, very lucky, an errand will present itself and I will be allowed to be along those absent and I will only receive a terse phone call or two during my excursion.
The upside of all this is that once the decorations have been finished, they look amazing and my beloved shelves the Mr. Hyde bit for another 12 months.
Photos to ensue.
-J.
Fine.
For me, the day that deserves the moniker is the day after that because that is the day my wife invariably stresses out, glowers, shouts and otherwise lets loose with all the feelings she's bottled up for a year. This is the day all the Christmas stuff gets placed in its, um, place. Shipping containers, weighing tons each, must be dragged down from their place of dormancy. The voyage is perilous and precarious and dust is liberally applied to our breathing passages and retinæ with each one that is brought forth.
Then the tree's lighting system must be assembled, its failure to light up scrutinized, the various checks performed, oaths and imprecations muttered darkly. Ornaments must be examined, those which fared poorly in their year of storage jettisoned and replaced.
To say nothing of the fact that Christmas music must play throughout this decoration endeavor.
Any and all failures are my fault and, even those which are not my fault, they will be put on my account, for the sake of expediency. Sometimes, if I am very, very lucky, an errand will present itself and I will be allowed to be along those absent and I will only receive a terse phone call or two during my excursion.
The upside of all this is that once the decorations have been finished, they look amazing and my beloved shelves the Mr. Hyde bit for another 12 months.
Photos to ensue.
-J.
Comments
As for decorating, the kid is lucky if I turn up a tree.
This is as far as I've gotten: the ceramic and real pumpkins are still out, decorating the mantel and dining room sideboard, as are the Puritans. And the turkeys.
There is an advent wreath in the middle of the dining room table. And three wreaths waiting to be put up on the doors.
They will help me recover from the faintly frightening images you have implanted in my mind..
saw u in meggie's post... hope to exchange links with if it's ok. do visit my blog and hoping u can share ur thoughts.
http://any-some-every-thing.blogspot.com/
thanks!