The Home Stretch

Although Little Cuter and I shared a moment of Oh, dear, I haven't bought enough for them pre-Christmas panic, we were able to report that we'd resisted the temptation to shop.  She was waiting for one cousin to replace his not available in your size request; I was finished.  Or so I declared.

As always, there are more brownies to bake. 

There are thank you notes to write.  The dining room table still resembles Santa's Workshop on Dec. 26th, although it is hidden behind the 60% off plastic floral stems from Michael's.   I've given up on poinsettias, without much of a struggle.

My landscape looks more like Bethlehem, anyhow.  Trying to turn the desert into a Bavarian forest has not worked out for me.  I now eschew the too-tall-for-me-to-decorate-without-a-ladder fir tree entirely, choosing smaller,

 craftier,

kitschier,

table-top models 

Somewhere in the garage is a box of more ornaments.  Right now, I'm satisfied with these.  I can conjure up an image of Nannie's Santa dirigible, of our Hawaiian sand filled globe, of the silver bells I never polish before I put them away...... and the images are enough.  Decorating is much easier since I accepted the fact that whatever I put out I also had to put away.  I'm down to two big boxes of stuff, and that works fine for us.

The us is important.  It's my holiday by adoption, it's TBG's by birth.  I want to be certain that I touch all his tender spots; Grandpaw's sleigh bells hang from the back door.  Abadee and Abadooo,

 our first ever ornaments, one for each of our cars, live on the fireplace surround.

There are pillows and stuffed, musical, Santas on the furniture, and some trinkets on the mantle and the end table, but mostly, this year, I'm decorating in my mind rather than in my house.

I'm in the home stretch; I'm trying to enjoy every moment.