Thursday, December 11, 2014

Christmas Cheer (Because Don't We All Need It?)

(What we awoke to this morning. Oh goody gumdrops. Riiiight.)



So why don't I decorate for Christmas? 1.) The rest of the year in the evenings (especially), I gaze around in lamplight at the yellows, greens and reds and feel it's all perfect just as it is and 2.) That also means my house is decorated to where--if you add two little new baubles--all the rooms seem to tip over while screaming, "Cluttered! We're off-kilter, unbalanced and Clutterville now. Take the new stuff away!"

And that is a problem.

But today for the first time, Reason Number Three was born.

Remember when I said I'd (surprisingly) ordered a small table tree? Well, it arrived this morning. I unpacked it, fluffed it and plugged it in:




Then I stepped back to admire it and oh! Daniel The Cat leaped up on the table, skidded to the tree and began chewing it like a starving alley cat. Chewing it! I ran to the table while yelling, "Bad kitty! No bite!", Daniel veered both eyes my way, then chomped down in a still, motionless death grip. Whereupon I (while still yelling, "Bad kitty! No bite!") squeezed his frustrating little jaws together till he released the branch.

Gah. I hadn't seen him that crazed and excited in months.

So now you know why I don't decorate for Christmas.








*****

And because I share this every single December, I wouldn't want to rob you this year. :)  So here you go, though I've not noticed inflatables in years, but then, I don't get out like I used to, either! 





Okay.

There's this verse in Proverbs about four things the author just doesn't get:

"There are three things that are too amazing for me,
four that I do not understand:

the way of an eagle in the sky,
the way of a snake on a rock,
the way of a ship on the high seas,
...the way of a man with a maiden."

And here's what Debra would add:

"...and the way people put those silly, gigantic inflatable Santas, snowmen and reindeer on their lawns."

I mean, really. Come on.

Everyday I take my walk around the neighborhood and everyday I see poor ol' Santas sprawled across lawns like spread-eagle pancakes beside their deflated plastic friends.

I don't understand the Christmas cheer of that.

In my mind, I always imagine the abominable snowman, at night, tromping across all those lawns, committing mass murder. Or that Santa and his friends got so cold, they decided to impale themselves rather than take one more freezing, long night while having to keep those goofy grins upon their faces.

It's like, what are people thinking? Who wants to blow-up gigantic plastic characters over and over, only to wake up in the morning and discover them strewn, pancake-style across the lawn--again?

Not me, anyway.

So, I guess, like Solomon, there are just some things which must be too amazing for me to understand, as well. :)



*****

Gracious! Did you know you can buy an honest-to-goodness Charlie Brown Tree from WalMart? No, really!   




Yours for only $19.99  :)


*****


Free Kindle books:


Firefly Beach

Touching Wonder: Recapturing The Awe of Christmas  (Yeah, I should probably read this one.)





3 comments:

Terra said...

Nice post, about your tree and your cat, and the writing about the inflatable Santas. We don't decorate our yard so no inflatable Santas here.

Tracy Hathcock said...

Your story about Daniel the cat made me giggle! And I agree about the inflatable yard decorations...too much trouble for me to have to worry about plugging/unplugging them up!

Terri Cheney said...

Debra you and John must think alike. We drove by a yard the other day where all the inflatables were down and he muttered, "It looks like a mass murderer went through..." lol

I am a lights person and while we have only ever put lights outdoors once, I do like to get out and drive about and stare fascinated at those who do it up big time. We have a couple three in our little town who DO. But none here. We live so far off the road (a country lane and a goat cart track as a citified cousin once said) that no one would ever see lights in our direction.