The Case for the Christmas Twig

image1(11)I don’t know about y’all, but I’m over here having an extremely hard time grasping the fact it is the last month of the year and of the decade. Add in we’re only nineteen days away from Christmas, and good gravy! I remember as a child my elders always commenting on how the older one got, the faster time flew. I can attest I now have a firm grasp on what they meant by that. And, I don’t know how things are going in your world, but in mine, 2019 seems to be determined to go out with all the fanfare befitting its station in the scheme of things.

Reasons I did not have a single scrap of anything even remotely resembling holiday décor up until yesterday include, but are not limited to, the following…

My husband is in school. Yes, after thirty years of serving the empire, he’s utilizing his bennies and attending the local community college. He’s on track to being a certified Paramedic by spring of 2021. In just three weeks, or thereabouts, he’ll be a certified EMT. In sixteen short weeks, he’s learned all the muscle groups, bones groups, how to assess a patient in multiple scenarios, he’s served our community through the security detail program the school has set up with the local university (somehow it equals to new equipment and monies, so win-win), put it many clinical hours, taken shots we can’t believe the military overlooked him needing being as he’s had nearly every shot known to man in the last thirty—like, what the hell? Oh! And he’s learned to deliver a baby. He was rather proud of that moment with the simulator with the lady parts. How does this affect me and whether I have any holiday décor jamming up in here? He’s gone or busy more hours than he was in his last two years of service.

Our trees and decorations are all up in the attic. I don’t do attic stairs. I get vertigo and it’s easier on everyone involved if I stay off the dang things. I don’t think he’d enjoy explaining to the responding team how his wife managed to fall out of the hole in the ceiling with tinsel draped across her butt and an electric star entangled in her up-do. Enough said on that.

Something most of my readers are not aware of is that writing is not my only creative outlet. In fact, I have many. One of my fearless fifty moves of the year was opening a quilting business in what’s supposed to be our dining room, but was the quilting room for the last eighteen months. That business was labor intensive and, in the end, didn’t work out quite like I had hoped. In fact, when all was said and done, the cost of my materials went up over 25% in the last quarter of the fiscal year. It was a cost I wasn’t willing to allow my customer base to bear the brunt of. So, for the last few weeks, I’ve been in the process of closing that business and moving all the equipment out of the dining room, which will soon be the new office space. Folks, moving a quilter is no easy feat. Last night we finally managed to get it relocated to our carriage house with the help of a neighbor. Today…today I get to paint the new office space!

Then came NaNoWriMo…Need I say more? Well, I actually do have plenty to say about that fiasco, but that’ll be for another day. I barely made it in under the wire because I have a new release coming out in a couple of weeks and preps for that have been rather time gluttonous. And, trying to build from scratch after the big sabbatical from writing has not been a breeze.

In case you’re wondering, with all I’ve described thus far, if any actual house work or laundry is getting done around here, the answer is: we have had clean undies every single day, there is a layer of dust on the coffee table right now that’s getting eliminated later today, and we’ve eaten more take-out than homecooked meals the last thirty days or so. That last one hasn’t really been conducive to me staying on point with my health goals. In other words, there’s plenty of spread to drape tinsel over if I could get it out of the attic to begin with.

Oh! By the by, the quilter I spoke of earlier? Yesterday I was attempting to get a last request or two out in the way of a few quilt tops that needed quilting that my grandma had left my family. I got through three of seven and my machine broke down. What is it about rain and pouring? Those remaining four quilts will now have to wait until further notice.

And speaking of family…does anyone else have one of those which manages to have a Griswold experience on every single holiday on the calendar? That’d be my family. We are the epitome of Griswoldedness. It’s why I hunker down in my own quarters during this time of year and politely decline any invites we get to share a holidayish experience with anyone. I don’t ever want to play witness again to an entire Christmas tree being jerked from the wall socket and tossed into the front yard even as the cops were looking on.

The partridge in this fruit salad tree is this…in the midst of all else going on and with MarshFox in the depths of scope of practice hell, I decided now was a good time to remodel our guest room complete with new paint, new furnishings, refinish the hardwood floor, and a new ceiling (which is actually the easiest task by far, believe it or not). I now have over a dozen boxes containing several elements of this project scattered about my already dusty house. I have a guest coming in January and no bed to put them in because the room is empty, although I did manage the paint day before yesterday.

What in cornbread hell was I thinking?

So, with all that said. Being as my time and the hubby’s time is being managed by a higher power right now along with all my aspirations for a guest room straight out of Southern Living and a new streamlined office space (new furniture inbound by the by), I did what any resourceful military wife, soon to be paramedic wife, would do in this situation concerning not a shred of evidence in my house the most major holiday of the year was bearing down on us. I marched my tinsel wearing ass to the store and bought a three-foot tree that fits nicely on my buffet complete with new decorations. It’s now up and lit. I’ve fondly dubbed it my Christmas Twig.

The mantle is another story entirely. I bought new pre-lit garland to drape over it thinking I was going to be all fancy and everything. One end lights up, the other does not. Lord have mercy! I unplugged it for now and walked away until I can figure out how to change that teeny-tiny fuse in the end of the plug without needing a microscopic surgical kit of some sort.

Where’s the eggnog?!

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