Okay, so we got this stupid tree and then the stupid thing wouldn't stay upright. The fury. THE FURY.
And as you can see, I fiddled with it so much that half the ornaments are now facing the wall. And then my dad came over and said, "You know what I'd do? Got any string?" And immediately I was on the same page because I'm my father's daughter and I was like OH HECK YES I'VE GOT SOME STRING. So later on when Jesse was at the store by himself because I may have already been in my jammies, I climbed behind the tree with a cup hook and some yarn to tie the tree up to the wall so it wouldn't be so depressing anymore. And because, hello! What's more classy than a Christmas tree tied to the wall? Then I found out the walls are too soft for screws to support any weight, and I left the yarn back there, climbed back over the couch, and did some angry knitting until Jesse came home. Hi, husband! I'm your festive wife, here in my jammies and mad at you because the stupid tree stupid sucks.
I shoved a Pringles can into the tree stand and life overall has been much better. Not perfect, but better.
Also, a few weeks ago I said to Jesse, "Hey, this last half of 2010 has been pretty exciting for us, but there's been a lull the past few weeks. Why don't we go to the doctor and have him diagnose you with type 2 diabetes?"
So, that's what we've been up to. Katie's agenda: learn how to cook for a diabetic diet. Wait, scratch that. Learn how to cook.
Here's a shot of Cinnamon taking advantage of the heater behind the couch, warming up his cute pink nosie.
Oh wait, just kidding. I remembered there was a passage from a book I wanted to include, and seeing as my blog track record the past few months has been scattered, I should post it now instead of waiting.
When Jesse and I first got married, he was what you call a Scrooge about Christmas. A Bah-Humbug. A Grinch. I'm very fortunate to have a great family who's kept up on traditions, especially through the holidays. So I am what you call filled with Christmas Spirit. I love the thing. Yeah yeah, stores have made it this crazy thing to get you to spend a lot of money, but that's what stores do. You think they weren't taking advantage of people protecting themselves during Y2K, even if they thought it was bunk? Sorry I just mentioned Y2K.
I'm saying that yeah, Christmas may have become this crazy spending spree, but I still very much believe in the magic of the season. The first Christmas Jesse and I had together, he did not want to get a Christmas tree. I finally dragged him along a couple weeks before Christmas and made him get a tree with me. We had friends over afterward, I made cookies, we decorated the tree, and watched Christmas movies. That night Jesse said to me a simple, "How dare you. How dare you make me like Christmas." And that dude has not been the same ever since. I mean, that morning he didn't like Christmas. The next day he wanted to throw a big ugly sweater Christmas party.
Last month I found an old book my mom had bought me by an author I liked, and I read a part that reminded me of Jesse and I may have cried a little bit (nobody saw, it doesn't count). Yes I was reading it in the bathroom. Because we keep it real here at twelvedaysold.
This passage is from Engaging Father Christmas, a novella by Robin Jones Gunn (author of the Christy Miller series, beloved of my heart).
"I thought of all the times over the years when I had heard people say Christmas was too commercial and materialistic. They were right, of course. I couldn't disagree. But if any one of those bah-humbug, Christmas Scrooges had lived my life, if they had come from where I came from, with motel soaps and shampoos and never a Christmas tree to fill a room with cheer and wonder, I think they would have softened their railings. If they could feel what I felt at this moment, gazing at the Christmas tree with wide-eyed Julia, they would say that tradition, decorations, and gifts were a beautiful way to celebrate Christ's birth."
And that's it, my fabulous followers! Hopefully I'll have the annual Bray Creepy Christmas Photo up sometime this weekend. (And Nessa, I owe you pictures of the cowl I knit and the package you sent me, but I wanted to get this post up before it was too late to talk about Christmas.)