I have failed at my goal to post every day, much less to write the blog from five to six each morning. Some of you may have noticed. I notice. On the days I’ve remained silent, it’s not because I’m watching back-to-back episodes of House. I’m adhering to the old adage, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” Or the other one, “Shut up and listen. You might learn something.”
It’s also because Christmas is kind of a busy time of year. What with all the overachieving, trying to create a holiday worthy of the ones my mother created all through my childhood and adulthood, and still does.
Sadly, Christmas at my parents’ house will not be the same this year because, for the first time in nearly forty years, their tree will lack a grimacing, fur-trimmed Eskimo face made out of what we’ve all speculated is oatmeal, that my brother made in grade school. David’s wife must really love him, because she took it back to Japan last year after their Christmas visit. It’s either love or my mother paid her off.
Either way, I will miss the nasty old thing. The legacy has been passed on; now his children get to poke fun at him and move it surreptitiously to a branch on the back of the tree and wait to see how long it takes for someone to notice.
I didn’t mean for this post to turn into a story about ugly Christmas tree ornaments, especially when I started out saying that if I didn’t have something nice to say, I wouldn’t say anything at all. But my brother would be the first to agree that the oatmeal Eskimo is long on fiber but short on beauty.
What’s the ugliest thing on your tree, and why’s it there?