marahmarie: Sheep go to heaven, goats go to hell (Default)

Said the same way anyone might say: "You gotta have the Christmas tree". Mariah, in case no one's noticed, has not been not rich for over 20 years, and in her casual, tossed-off remarks invoking the Reindeer Act of 2015, it shows.

So is she lobbying Congress to have the Reindeer Act formally passed (sponsored by her "good friend" Oh, Santa!) requiring at least one reindeer on every front lawn, in every parking lot and upon every roof by such and such time upon threat of tax penalty for non-compliance? If reindeer become so ubiquitous, thanks to her, that like Cabbage Patch dolls everything about them just fades away - no matter how much she rants and raves about reindeer making things more festive - will she eventually revoke the Reindeer Act? Should we let her or should prospectors amongst us just snatch up all the reindeer cheap, for pennies on the dollar, to hoard them until they fetch $10k apiece on eBay?

Where do you buy them? I mean, the last time I checked, they weren't hanging out at WalMart flashing big red Buy Me noses at me. In fact, they were not in Walmart. If you're not Mariah, though, or a handful of people about as rich, chances are you're getting them at Walmart, whether Walmart fucking has them or not.

So, should Sam Walton's progeny be made to sit down with reindeer suppliers? Who are they? Are they in Russia? Alaska? Will they do business with anyone except Mariah or Sarah Palin? What if the reindeer must be flown in? I mean yes, there are cargo ships, but that must be brutal on things with tender asparagus spears for legs and oversized red noses. What do they eat? Mariah's might live on honey and butterflies but ours will probably require feed. How much will it cost? Will there be tax credits to make it more affordable?

Where will my reindeer crap? Will they piss on my roses? Will they get along with my cats? Can I fly one? I think deer smell bad. Does that mean I don't have to have any?

marahmarie: Sheep go to heaven, goats go to hell (Default)

This tree represents many firsts: first tree I've put up since my mother died, first tree I strung the lights on myself (it took hours and I still need, judging by pics, another string along the bottom), first tree my fiance's put up in over six years and the first full-size tree I've ever put up for my cat. This is also the first Christmas my fiance and I will celebrate as a couple, despite having dated for a few major stretches in 1987 and 1989.

The Charlie Brownish tree

Like my ring (access-locked), this tree has a backstory: it became ours the other day through a friend of my fiance's after she heard we weren't "doing" Christmas because neither of us have our own Christmas trees or decorations and aren't in a position to buy such things anytime soon. She's a huge Christmas fanatic; upon hearing that she immediately went, "WHAT?", rushed up to her attic and brought down a huge box. You can guess what was in it. Except you can't! Not just a huge, thick, fluffy, beautiful 7-foot Christmas tree but also the lights for it (well, almost all of them - the dark spots you see are from a few short circuits, but we were given more than enough to light this tree twice over; only 3-4 sets were DOA).

The best part, though, is how she knew exactly when she bought it: Christmas of 1987, the same year my fiance and I began seeing each other. He was blown away by that and I am, too. She must've used the tree only once because it still looks, feels - even acts brand new. I don't know about him, but it's actually the nicest tree I've ever had.

In honor of not having my heart broken over being unable to celebrate our first Christmas together (weirdly enough, a few hours before he surprised me with this tree, all I could think about, nay, obsess over, was how sad it was for us to not be able to celebrate Christmas this of all years) I went out with him and a friend tonight and bought all the decorations, spending money I don't really have because, you know, love. Our first year together is now, and it only comes once. I can always make the money back later (cue the rap song "I'm a Hustler").

As to why we don't have our own Christmas stuff, I donated mine and my mother's to charity a few weeks after she passed. I also gave them all of our Halloween, Thanksgiving, Valentine's Day and Easter stuff, along with nearly half of our non-holiday household effects. We had beautiful stuff but I figured I'd never celebrate a holiday again with her gone so why bother hanging onto any of it. I did not want to see it anymore.

Him? He apparently lost his holiday tree and decorations in the fallout from his last long-term relationship, in which it all stayed with her instead of him. Once they broke up (and owing not just to that but to several tragedies which I swear might make break anyone of their holiday spirit, at least for a while) he simply never celebrated Christmas again.

Back to the picture, to the left and right of the tree you'll see my fiance's nutcrackers. He's collected them since early childhood when his mom and dad realized he could not get enough of them. They began bestowing him with at least one or two a year until he'd collected over 50. Most of them have since been destroyed in moves and by mishandling but he still has nine of them from Germany, Spain, and the USA and they're all in beautiful condition.

Slightly off-center, you might see one of three stockings (one for the pets, one for him, one for me) hanging behind and to the left of the tree because our fireplace is in the bedroom so there's no hearth nearby to hang those on. And lastly, I made some of the decorations you see using a roll of wide-gauge Christmas ribbon (the little bow ties) and a big handful of fake flower sprigs (I cut each sprig apart with wire cutters and used each flower or flower cluster to fill in). That was kind of fun.

marahmarie: Sheep go to heaven, goats go to hell (Default)

So, ha ha ha (or is that: "ho ho ho"?), there I was today trippin' past the Christmas tree on my way to the dryer, silently, I might add, when my HugFun (made in China) voice-activated Santa, who sits beneath it, started yelling "Why HELLO THERE!" like some drunken pick-up artist in a bar.

Looks innocent, but has a filthy mind.

You have to push a button on his left hand to start him up, so voice-activated Santa is really push-button-activated Santa. But nobody pushed his button. I can't even blame the cat. Stuart was nowhere around, I swear! So I grumbled and got my laundry out of the dryer before it wrinkled, because I'm completely OCD about wrinkles, ugh.

I tripped past voice-activated Santa a few minutes later. He was still yelling "Why HELLO THERE!" to anyone who'd listen - perhaps invisible friends? I folded laundry in the next room but couldn't escape him - he's LOUD - and was speaking in what sounded like tongues. At this point I was like, "WTF?" - I could barely fold laundry for the distraction.

A few minutes later I pressed the button to turn him off but it just turned him back on, like a computer restart. He made a perfectly endless speech about who he is and what he does (if you ask questions from a book he comes with he'll tell you, but this Santa does that without anyone saying a thing).

His speech went on for 20 minutes (maybe closer to 20 seconds) before I snapped, "OK, shut the fuck up!" At which point he said in a low, contrite voice, "I'm SORRY". I didn't think "I'm SORRY" was in his vocabulary, so I started freaking out.

And it gets FREAKIER [cue Twilight Zone music]... )