Now Playing -
"Linger" - Jonatha Brooke
Now Eating -
Now Feeling -
Now Tweeting
- Melanie
I went to Pier One to kill some time on the way to tap class Tuesday. Bought some candles. They were especially helpful in killing the stanky smoke odeur that evening.
Guess what they smell like?
Norweigan spruce!
It's not even mid-October and already Mel's makin' the house smell like Christmas!
I love Christmas. The season, not the holiday. Well, the holiday to the extent of presents and stuffing and family and friends. Being a Jew, the actual observance part's kinda moot for me. Although as a child, I do recall leaving cookies and milk out for Santa, and decorating a brown paper grocery bag for him to leave presents in. (The ritual significance of that last part escapes me.)
Our first tree was for our second married Christmas. We got married November 1st, so that first year was just too hectic to try and manage a tree. But I've loved having the two trees we've had since. We couldn't get a tree last year, because we knew we'd be moving and didn't know when or where, and the holiday season was dismal for me. I wandered around the town where I work, and saw all those Christmas tchotchke shops all decked out, and they had carols playing over loudspeakers in the streets, and it just made me incredibly sad.
But those other two trees? Ah, bliss. I would sit in the dark with just the tree lights on and bask in the glow. And the scent. And later, the pine needles in the vacuum cleaner would still fill the house with fragrance. Never mind my husband's penchant for throwing clumps of icicle tinsel willy-nilly in his attempt at tree-decorating artistry. Never mind that the two trees were absolutely huge and our apartment was small. Never mind that after the first "tree incident," the huz made me promise that we'd get a smaller tree the following year.
Oops.
Good thing I'd borrowed my friend's electric hedge trimmer.
But I love Christmas. I make this incredibly mushy bread stuffing that I could just live on. Mulled cider. My friend Brent's Christmas party every year in his tiny cottage, and his pesto lasagne and everyone screaming carols at the top of our voices at midnight. Hand-knit stockings (not by me.) That first big snow. Holiday party hors d'oeuvres. Little cousins in incredibly cute dresses. Finding the perfect gift for the huz.
I can't wait.
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