Here's the thing about the holidays: it's all about the decorations. You cannot forget that it is December - no matter where you go, from the grocery store to the ICU, everything is candy cane striped, and decked out in ribbons and bells and assorted ornaments. No matter what holiday you are celebrating, they have an appropriately colored string of lights, a section of greeting cards, and some hideous cardboard cut outs or window decals to suit.
A lot of it makes me cringe - especially the yard decorations that inflate or move their heads slowly back and forth. It's all just so.......much. So in your face. So undignified. Now, don't get me wrong - I have an inflatable snow globe in my front yard the minute our calendar turns to December. But I do it for the kids, you see. And I think we all know my dignity is in shards somewhere on the side of I-95 in New Jersey.
Dignified or not, there is one piece of holiday decor that I really do love, and which sparks all sorts of warm and fuzzy memories and frosty-paned nostalgia: the holiday tree.
This is not to take away from the beauty of other classic symbols of the holiday season. For instance, I have a deep and abiding appreciation for the menorah - both for it's symbolism and for the many design interpretations I have seen.....but I'm not Jewish and I don't celebrate Hanukkah so I feel like having a menorah would be as absurd as having a crucifix. I am many, many things - religious is not one of them.
But the tree? The tree doesn't belong to one particular religion. The tree is basically used for the sole purpose of displaying the 8 million Christmas ornaments our children have made at school over the years, and actually rocks some ornaments that I made as a kid, myself. And while it is a "Christmas tree", covered in "Christmas ornaments", the tree is completely non-religious for us. I don't have a nativity set up in front of it or even an angel on top or anything like that. Instead I have decorations in the shape of the buddah's head and santa wearing a grass skirt because I like to send mixed messages and confuse my children, one string of old school lights, and resting underneath the plastic branches, a needlepoint pillow that says "He Knows Where You've Been Sleeping" that my mother gave me during a particularly festive holiday season right after my first marriage came to a spectacular conclusion. My response to be being single for the first time since my freshman year of highschool was to date. A lot. My mother found my newly single behavior alarming. And in typical passive-aggressive fashion, gave me a needlepoint pillow with that nasty little slogan for my first Christmas as a "single gal".
God, I love that pillow.
But even better than the pillow is my festive collection of paper maiche dolls, Santa, Mrs. Claus, and a caroling boy.
At least, they said he was caroling.
But all three of them are making the most alarming face. Mouths gaping open in a perfect "O'.
Each year we received another figurine, and each year the only thing I could think was "blow job".
So, next to the tree, we have Blow Job Santa, Mrs. Claus, and the eunich.
Because nothing says Christmas to me like blow jobs and Christmas trees. Wouldn't you agree?
48 minutes ago