Christmas Confessions & Secrets

It was brought to my attention the other day that I haven’t confessed to all my Christmas Secrets. No, I’m not talking about the pony, that one is a given. I’m talking about my secrets to insuring having the Most Beautiful Christmas Tree Ever.

I’ve disclosed my belief “more lights/more better, too many lights/most best” ---grammar people please breathe into this paper bag, I’m playing with superlatives intentionally. Yes, I’m aware I misused “by” last week when I really meant “buy,” and I have properly chastised myself for it, and promise to never do it again---where was I? Oh, right—too many lights most best.

I’ve even confessed to wadding up stands of lights and shoving them in amongst the branches to really make the interior of the tree glow. I’ve reminded you, Gentle Reader, to follow all Underwriters Laboratory safety guidelines, to use extension cords properly and to apply copious amounts of sunblock. What I forgot to mention was my master plan to defeat the laws of nature; gravity, specifically.

My Christmas tree often ends up, not in front of a window, but jammed into a tight corner. That means that all my boxes and boxes and boxes of sparkly Christmas Cr** ornaments are only able to be displayed on—at most (excuse me while a do a little mental math here: 75% of 360* ...of a seven-foot tall noble fir...carry the one...) Anyway, suffice it to say I hang a whole bunch of stuff on the front of the tree and not very much on the back of the tree...and that afore-mentioned gravity? It’s a thing.

Behold the Christmas Tree Tragedy of 2006. It occurred in super slow motion right in front of me; the tree began to list and lean, and without so much as a “Timber!” crashed onto the dining room table, whilst I sat there, doing my best Gob-smacked Goldfish impression.

Because I have cats, the ornaments were securely fastened to the tree, so most of the damage occurred to ornaments that impacted the edge of the table. Alas, poor glass turtle that lost his head! Adios to my hand painted, blown-glass heart collection! Rest in pieces, favorite Snowman!

Every year since then the tree has been securely tethered to the wall via a clever combination of screws in the wall and hi-test fishing line; Designer Fishing Line if you will.

There. Now you know all my secrets.

Merry Christmas!

Busy Busy Busy

I’ve been kinda busy lately. I’ve discovered a new passion-- an obsession really-- with small release, independent, art films. I view, and then review these films, watching them again and again, and often send comments to both the producers and the star.

Ok, full confession—I’m watching SnapChat videos of my grandson and texting his parents, but it does take up a lot of my time. And if it weren’t for the transitory nature of these videos—SnapChat videos poof! after a set number of views/amount of time—I’d never get anything done.

John Shane is four months old, 15 lbs., a total chunky monkey, a perfect little Little, and incredibly delectable. I give grandparenthood five stars, and highly recommend it. If you can get a gig as a grandparent, you should probably take it.

Oh sure, there are downsides, responsibilities, trials, tribulations.... First, I had to by a bigger cell phone, one with more memory/storage capacity. Occasionally, I must pretend to be politely interested when people rudely want to talk about something that isn’t about John Shane’s amazing ability to blow spit bubbles at such a tender age, or what a good bath taker he is, or any one of his fascinating characteristics. And just this afternoon, I spent an exhausting two hours trying to get wrapping paper to stick to a pony.

Flying in the house--with Dad!!

I get to spend every Wednesday with my grandson, his parents entrusting him to my care while they go out in the world and function as fully-realized adults. John and I stay home and plot our future mischief. We play games, sing songs, practice “flying,”—even if his daddy says there’s no flying in the house. (I raised his father and I must say I’m a little surprised by his sudden fondness for Rules. Where did that come from?) We read books and take naps, and Wednesdays are my favorite day of the week.

And as for Christmas? This year, I just can’t wait.

Traditions of Glow

I got my tree the other day—and by “got,” I mean I opened the door when my oldest son brought my tree in.

The Sume’s are big on tradition. For the last three years, the tree-getting tradition has morphed into my tree being delivered to me, securely affixed in its stand, and the lights applied utilizing teamwork. It’s a pretty sweet tradition in my opinion, one that warms my heart.

I believe in lots of lights on the tree—and I mean LOTS--1,700 this year.  More is always better. I’m a firm believer that you can’t judge what you can’t see and that glare is now your new best friend. So, your tree may have a few branches that aren’t located in the optimal position, so what? If you’re generous with the lights everything else becomes less important. And less visible. The tree’s glow, however, will be visible from outer space.

But Sue, I hear you asking, how will I know I have enough lights on my tree?

That’s simple—apply all the strands of lights you have. Now step back, squint your eyes and look for any dark spots. If you see any, go get more lights and apply them to the dark areas. Lather. Rinse. Repeat as necessary. Figure at least 100 lights per foot of tree. Now double it. AT LEAST. More is better. Too much doesn’t exist. If you’re really smart you will have stocked up on Christmas lights at last year’s after Christmas sales.

I’ll let you in on a little secret: I don’t always “string” the lights on my tree—I often bunch them. And by bunch them, I mean I basically leave them in the loop I took them of the tree last year in. And by loop a mean wad. I then take that wad ‘o lights and stuff them between the thicker branches and artistically fluff the wad ‘o lights around the trunk of the tree. Repeat this technique up the length of the tree. Follow up by “stringing” lights on the outer branches. Easy, peasy, done. Guaranteed to give your tree that out of this world glow—just don’t forget to wear sunblock.