Sunday, December 2, 2012
Sharing the balls
As I decorate the tree (which no one helps me with, by the way), I take the opportunity to reflect on the first fifty-plus years.
Back in the day (in the house where I raised my family, which was a big, honking 11-room thing), I put up a lot of trees. There are a lot of bloggers who do this...mostly young families with kids still at home. But that's not me anymore.
I have one tree...a fake tall slim tree from K-Mart, fake because my son is allergic to fir, tall and slim because of the space, from K-Mart because it was cheap. It was difficult to get rid of fifty percent of the ornaments, but I sorted through them and some went into a box for my daughter, some went into a box for my son, and some went into a box for the less-fortunate.
Of course, I kept the best ones for myself.
Y'all who think you are all crafty and whatnot? Well, back before there was a Martha Stewart, my mom was Martha Stewart. Seriously. She had a degree in Home Economics and she could do ANYTHING. She and my dad completely restored an 1876 farmhouse, she could bake a pie that was to die for, and she made my wedding gown. Martha can put that in her pipe and smoke it. The above ornament with the kitty face was something my mom made for me, circa 1967, in lieu of getting me a cat. This ornament is OLDER THAN A LOT OF YOU ARE. (Yes, I am talking to you, Cassie.)
This is a great vintage bird ornament that was always on our tree growing up. There is some speculation as to 'where this ornament went' but if it is spotted on my tree, I will claim that it was 'given' to me by my mother, and she must have forgotten that she 'gave' it to me.
I made this ornament about ten years ago. I made one just like it for an ornament exchange and people FOUGHT OVER IT! I keep this on my tree to remember that brief, shining moment.
This ornament is from my hometown. This is the bandstand in the middle of the park where we used to have (and still have) community functions. A plaque memorializing my dad is to the left of the steps.
And there are those ornaments with the sweet preschool faces on them...
(Yes, that is a very sad face. As precious as she was, she hated having her picture taken. For three years, every photo shows her on the brink of tears.) For a time, I thought maybe she was Amish, and the camera would steal her soul. But I don't think that there were any Amish babies born in the same hospital the same week, so I guess she wasn't switched at birth.
I found this ornament in a little shop that had really odd merchandise. I like to call this guy "drunk Santa." Because that pretty much sums up the tree-decorating evening at my house.
What's on YOUR tree?