Even though I usually don’t get very enthusiastic about Christmas and all the attendant hoopla, I have to admit that today is probably the perfect day to put up and decorate the Christmas tree. The first winter snowstorm of the season is raging outside, so being inside in the cozy confines of the living room with the fire in the fireplace lighting the and heating the room, a glass of wine sampled at my side, and Mary loading the tree with all the special ornaments (each with a story accompanying it), is stirring seasonal feelings in my otherwise reluctant spirit.
Even though she grumbles incessantly while doing it, Mary always turns the tree into a fine example of Christmas splendor. My contribution to the decorating effort is over once the tree is set up and the lights are strung and twinkling away. Then I gladly relinquish any responsibility for the remaining ornaments getting onto the tree. I figure I would only get in the way. And I don’t take direction very well, so hanging an ornament would be an exercise in confrontation and a power struggle that I choose to avoid. For some reason, Mary seems to think that she, and only she, has the proper decorating sense when it comes to the placement of those baubles on the tree. I happily give way to her. After all, Santa has never failed to make a stop here on Christmas, so she must be doing something right.