Still have turkey leftovers in my fridge, but, by, my are already up.
I’m no Clark Griswald, and my cottage home is no castle. I’m talking one string (75 feet) of red and green bulbs along the eves on two sides of my house. And one short string of 6-inch penguins and another short string of 6-inch snowmen along the flower beds on each side of my front door.
I’m getting old and my wife doesn’t want me on theanymore, but that’s what daughter boyfriends are for, and mine (ours?) scaled the ladder and leaned over the peak to secure the lights in the area of highest risk. The kid is a foot taller than me and has the wingspan of a condor, so let’s just say that his skills are beyond my reach.
Wish I could afford to hire a guy to sit on my roof in aand “Ho, Ho, Ho” everybody on cue, just to keep pace with the guy in the next block with the inflatable Santa on his roof. Of course, the other dude also has an inflatable sleigh and blow up reindeer on his roof, but I won’t have a live show that might leave reindeer poop in my rain gutters.
Wait! Wait! I could ground everything and rent some sheep, a donkey and maybe a cow or two and some actors for a live nativity scene in my front yard. Maybe find a nice homeless family to live in a makeshift stable. I could play the innkeeper. Maybe pay a woman to actually give birth right on my lawn!
Forget the. I want moving spotlights that can be seen in space. And maybe a choir in white robes with wings singing
Geez, am I feeling it here, or what? I’ll betcarries stable makings.
On second thought, maybe I’m getting carried away.
The Norwegian in me now has me thinking austerity and humility. May even pull back on the penguins.