The Tree

No, not Sonny's Tree. Our tree.

In 2000 we shit-canned it all and took off, for what we thought would be a year or so, but what turned into, well, Life. As we now know it.

I used to like Christmas, I did. But then I didn't anymore. And I come from a long line of those who don't like it, so Mom can't even say anything about my attitude. Because at least 2 of her siblings, my Aunt Peggy and Uncle Brian, are two of her favorite people in all the world, and they didn't, and don't, like Christmas, so, well, Mom's patient with me.

Our Christmas stuff has been stored in Mumsie's basement all these years, but this year we're in a house at Christmastime -- our house -- so we got it all out and laid eyes on it for the first time in 8 years.

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And got a tree to hang it all on. Natch.

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Even most of the lights survived their exile in the basement.

Mistah Schleckah took his Christmas duties very seriously, trimming that tree from a strong and true vantage point. And yes he wears sandals and socks. Very California. My sisters love to make fun of him. And he's good at giving them fodder.

It was fun to see the stuff that was wrapped in newspapers from 2000. All our ornaments were given to us (or at least that's always the party line; I'm not so sure about that anymore). Anyway, these handmade glass ones are from My Girl Nancy.

When one has a late-night, post-party-party with one's girl MartyJoCo, a decorated Christmas Tree is a lovely background.

Go Huskies. (The Huskies ornament is shy; she's turning her head.)

I mean, really. It's like Martha Stewart Nation around here.

Especially during the post-post-party-party. Then it really starts to get fun.

Happy Hollandaise.