Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Seasonal Tree

I love December and all the celebrations it brings. Including bright shiny things, cozy wearables and lots of cake.
Every year I have the ambition to have the perfect tree.

Life was good to me, in that it eventually gave me, a man who religiously swings both ways and who loves a REAL tree. Not that there is anything wrong with an artificial tree. I grew up with a magnificent one, that would suddenly appear overnight beautifully decorated by Dad. The living room ceiling would be home to dangling stars and Chinese lanterns in gold and silver foil, remember those? I would make the paper chains and we had those crinkled paper wreaths that were flat, until you unfolded the sides open and clipped them together.

This Saturday was the day Dearest Husband and I chose the tree, quickly named The Clooney Fir.  Following the sixty minute strategic operation that was bringing the tree inside, I calm down with a cup of tea, light pine candles and put music on. (Funny to note, that I light pine scented candles when I have pine tree!) One wishes to create the bright happy atmosphere that decorating a tree deserves. We'd eat popcorn if we had any and wear red Santa hats.  Jolly, jolly, jolly.

So, why do I turn into the girl from the exorcist over baubles and lights? Honestly, if Martha Stewart met Silence of the Lambs guy and had Kathy Bates in Misery as a baby and called them Chucky - they would be more pleasant than me!

"No, I want more lights on it!" I am foaming at one moment. "Yes, we always have a thing on the top - and no, it's not a religious Saint, she's just a bleedin' angel and I can see her price tag so I have to get up that bleedin ladder again!" For those that know me, bleedin' was perhaps a different word and getting up a ladder is like inviting a squirrel to cross the highway wearing a blindfold.

While up the ladder, Dearest Husband is holding onto me so tightly that he is actually pulling me over and I can see the ladder beginning to tip. I reach out to balance myself by holding onto the tree, which is always a bright idea, to get stable by clutching onto something that is not stable!!!

Nothing fell, all was safe, though it did not sound like it and the non religious angel is ashamed of me.
I'm ashamed of me! Honestly, who on earth, North Pole and in Massachusetts am I trying to please with the perfect tree? Does it really matter that I have two red baubles next to one another and that I can't get the tiny bulb to shine on the golden doves wings? Should I really feel guilty about not using the ice skating polar bears I bought last year, simply because the colors do not match "this years theme?"
AND, I will let you know, there's no "back of the tree so it doesn't matter" because The Clooney Fir is placed in the window! Get me, all posh and making a seasonal statement.

Dear Santa - please bring this woman Valium before she tries to decorate the Menorah.

Sunday, December 4, 2011


On Friday night I discovered a brand new experience that I have wondered and pondered about for a few years. In fact, I feel kind of embarrassed to admit that I have never tried before, despite being tempted many a time. I've seen people do it, I've been encouraged to do it and now I've done it and I can see why people get addicted.
Throwing all caution slowly into the air with a puff of smoke, I advise you to get to your local Shaws supermarket. This is my dealer.
They are running the Wish Big Win Big holiday giveaway. Which basically is a beginners introduction to voucher land. The more grocery shopping you do, the more tickets you receive.
Previously in my shopping world I have dabbled with the odd dollar off from sparkling water and the buy ten for five cat food. For the most part however, vouchers are the things I discover at the bottom of my bag along with dust, one paperclip and two discolored mints.

Friday night, after reading the game rules, I was pretty excited to get stuck into my pile of tiny voucher tickets.
For a few weeks now I have had an itchy palm when visiting Shaws, which I am putting down to the fact that I am going to win something. An itchy palm means you are coming into money. It does not mean you should sanitize the trolley handles I promise.

With the opening of each one I felt a positive surge and I swear I heard Liza Minnelli singing "Maybe this time, I'll be lucky."
Until 2am, I opened those tickets.I didn't care that I had too many canned peaches and not enough green beans. I just knew the possibility of the next ticket.I now only need a Hostess DoNut ticket to win a $250 gift card and just one Gingerbread Gingerman to win $25,000 for a car.

It is the big prize I play for. The ultimate, exclusive high that I believe will be mine. The $250,000!  And yes, though I still need turkey stuffing, jello, creme cheese and mozzerella, my palm itches with a guaranteed anticipation.
I can't wait to get back to Shaws to be awarded with more of those tasty tickets of joy. I know what Friday nights are made for!
AND, when I win, I will stop. I will. I know I can stop, I know I can. It's not a problem. It's just for now.

For my Universe

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