Last night, Tom and I went out to Green Acres to do a little decorating with Lynne. Years ago, every holiday season, Lynne and her sister, Liz, helped my heart grow three sizes larger with their decorating, baking, and other such holiday madness. Lynne is a Christmas ho.
So, while Tom put the lights on a ginormous tree that makes my tree look like a shrubbery…
Lynne started the Santa tree (which makes my tree look like a redwood!) in the breakfast room.
If you recall the photo of my ceramic Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus, they were painted for me by Liz. Lynne has a matching set, painted for her by their mother. Except Lynne’s Santa still has his paintbrush. My Santa lost his years ago, and I was never able to find it to glue it back.
Beth came over and finished the Santa tree (I forgot to get a photo) while Lynne began unloading the seven hundred bins of ornaments. Tom was still stringing lights on Treezilla. I was… I don’t know, drinking coffee or something.
Lights on, it was now time for an angel to get a tree up her butt.
And time for me to be a hooker. What? That’s right, Lynne may be a Christmas ho, but I’m the Christmas hooker. I put the hooks on the ornaments and hand them to the tree decorators, in this case, Lynne, Tom, and Beth. I like this part because it gives me a chance to check out every ornament in case there are any I want to steal. I do NOT get sentimental over ornaments from years past, or ornaments made by Jess when he was a little boy, or anything like that.
Meanwhile, Minute guarded the extra lights and wished we’d all go to bed. She requires a lot of sleep to build up the energy it takes to become Six Pounds of Destruction and Terror.
Now with eleventy thousand ornaments…
Treezilla tried to kill Lynne.
Eventually, I’ll get a fabulous picture of Treezilla when her branches begin to further relax and she’s even more stunning.
the trees look so pretty!
and that little minute is just too cute! 🙂
Minute is cute. And I had to go back and edit her gender, because I called her a “he.” I don’t know why I do that. You’d think since both my dogs are female, I’d automatically use female pronouns, but for some reason, I keep calling Minute a boy dog.
i tend to call certain dogs ‘he’ as well. something about how their little faces look determines if it’s a boy or girl to me.