Not Exactly What I Was Going For
Anyway, I'm trying to do like the Romans do so I thought I ought to get started. I walked outside and assessed the position of the outlets, etc. Back in Austin, I used to wrap our largest tree out front in miles and miles of lights. It was really beautiful, I thought. I was all set to do that to one of the trees or maybe even SEVERAL of the trees--a virtual lighted forest!-- out front when I noticed something.
There is only one outlet outside and if I run an extension cord to it, the extension cord will have to run right across the front walk way. Given that I am gimpy and clumsy AND half blind, this seems to be a recipe for disaster. So, I started to wrap this conical juniper --I have two of them, one on either side of the front door.
Only, um...
Well.
I have this sinking feeling that I've just created a giant...um...symbol that is decidedly NOT in the spirit of Christmas. (If giant...you know...symbols such as these are part of YOUR holiday celebrations, please don't tell me about it. Really. I don't want to know.) I won't know for sure until dark falls but, well, this is not QUITE the statement I was hoping for. I don't think this will further my efforts to fit in with the other PTA moms, if you know what I mean.
How many years of therapy do you think it'll take for my daughters to overcome the stigma associated with their mother having lit up a giant...um...symbol in the front yard?
Stuff like this happens to other people, too, right?
Comments
Silly.
The house 2 doors down from me totally over-decorated their house. They are from British Columbia and very....excitable...and friendly and a little weird. But they have this giant blow up Santa and a giant blow up Rudolph on their front lawn. Everything has been going (lights, generator to keep the stuffed characters blown up) 24/7 for the past two weeks! I would hate to see their electric bill. Anyways, Sunday night there was a big windstorm and when I walked by the house yesterday morning, there was a big crate that had landed on Santa, crushing him...to death. He was a pancake (and me without my camera).
How many years of therapy do you think it will take for THEIR kids to recover. At least it wasn't Christmas morning!