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You might think this looks like the White House getting their Christmas tree delivered, but it's actually the back entrance to my house. Well, it's the back entrance to my house if you've started on the holiday cheer, which I'm considering soon. See all the neighbors? Quite a few showed up this year to help out and I had to give them all cookies. And don't think I baked them either--Chips Ahoy all around. That woman who looks like Laura Bush? Ate a whole bag by herself.


Some traditions are cute. We always use the same tinfoil angel on the top of our tree, the one I made (with assistance) when I was eight or ten. In fact, I must have had tremendous assistance on it since the face has little sequins pinned for the eyes and nose and the hair is teeny-tiny strips of tinfoil, demonstrating fine motor skills I have never possessed and tasks I probably could not complete right now.


Another cute tradition is not cleaning the oven from year to year. The Ghost of Casseroles Past wafts out on Christmas Eve with the scent of lasagne, sweet potatoes, taco shells and other items that have dripped onto the oven floor over the years. I'm vowing to clean the beast in 2007 or at least do my best to wheedle and manipulate someone else into doing it.

It's tradition that the computer room upstairs becomes the gift wrap center for all citizens. As soon as I have it cleaned up from one wrapper, another one comes along to tear it apart. I keep it supplied with rolls of gift wrap, scissors, tape, nametags, ribbons and bows from other years. I have one gold mesh (mesh?) string of ribbon that I love. I only use it on gifts that will be opened here in the house, so I can get the ribbon back. Some people are starting to get wise to this so I hope I can continue with my subterfuge.

I'm not letting that gold ribbon out of here.

We say a small prayer before eating Christmas Eve dinner and that has become tradition. It is the only time a prayer is uttered here, well, aside from the earnest pleading that goes on when the power goes off and I'm trying to get somebody to go into the basement for me. Or clean the oven.

I may be running out of the cute traditions. Now I will mention one or two of the annoying ones, including the vacuum cleaner's tradition of aspirating a long plastic piece of matter and shutting down Christmas Eve afternoon. There's also the tradition of forgetting to make ice for the party and also forgetting to buy extra light bulbs. A business management course could be taught here in my house concerning the art of prioritizing: the bathroom gets a light no matter what; the
kitchen too. After that, no guarantees. I'm hard and cold when I have to be.

I'm forging ahead on Dalliance Woman, though I'm making myself hyperventilate with how risque it is. Coupon Girl Enters Sluthood.

Can you tell I'm wasting time? I still have to crunch numbers for grades to my students and do all my shopping and clean and cook. I may put my head in the oven if I can stand it.

Feliz Navidad (I hate that song)

love,
becky

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