justalonewolf007
Member
- Apr 30, 2007
- 657
- 0
Also known as, "Tolle' puts up a tree."
So...it's that time of the year again, folks. The ground has turned mysteriously white and all cold. Carols are being played, and once again, the Salvation Army bell ringers are out in force, making stingy people feel guilty everywhere they go.
What is going on you might ask? Why, haven't you heard? The new and highly commercialized Christmas has finally taken over the northern realms of Minnesota gosh darn it! And you better be as excited as heck and start whipping out those wallets and all the cash and magic plastic within!!
Well, actually, Christmas decorations were put on display the day before Halloween, so this whole Christmas thing has been approaching much like a freight train, with horns blasting to beat sixty. You always hear that heart-stopping blast before you see the thing coming, and it always scares the living tar out of everyone within range. It's a pretty rude awakening, and I don't particularly like waking up that well anyways.
Now it's confession time, even though you probably already guessed. I never get that stoked about Christmas. I hate Christmas music, and I would rather disappear into a quiet corner instead of going out to work parties and public celebrations.
What I do like, and have come to greatly appreciate in the past year, is the chance to give a little extra to my family, and the little bit of time that I'll get to spend with them. I also like going in on gifts that I know will be used and enjoyed for a good long while to come.
My household is very low key. We do put up a tree, and we do put lights on it and maybe even a few ornaments. A good half-month after everyone else has their house overstuffed with useless decorations that make simple living impossible, and Christmas cookies all baked and half of already gone stale, we clear a corner and put the tree up.
This year, since I'm temporarily unemployed, it became my responsibility to put up the tree with the help of my younger sister, who is home from college. We aren't the best of friends, nor are we anything alike, but I'd consider myself on good enough terms to be sociable and function in a house on a shorter term basis. Don't get me wrong though, I will personally <insert really really violent and graphic life ending actions> the first person to harm a hair on her head.
...er...
Our Christmas tree is over 25 years old. This means that if it tips over and happens to land on someone, a trip to the hospital for stitches will be in order. Every last branch has sharp twisted wires coming out of the end. By the time I had the thing pulled out of the gigantic storage tote, mostly assembled and somewhat standing, it looked as if I'd just tried to force a cat into a bathtub full of water. My arms are covered in cuts and scratches.
By the time that was over, I had to sit down. Although we'd had some good laughs, I have some severe arthritis or bursitis or both in my shoulders that has really knocked me off my feet. On top of that, I am slowly recouping from a wicked cold.
That sit down episode lasted about six hours. Then came time for the lights. They were all wrapped up in a neat coil, labeled "GOOD LIGHTS THAT WORK." I stupidly opened my mouth to comment "There's no way this'll work, that's too easy. All labeled perfect in your crappy handwriting and everything. Crazy."
I ducked the pillow that came thundering my way. My sister was never athletically gifted, but she rarely misses my thick head. Also, she's a lot bigger than I am, and she was also close enough that she hadn't even let go of the thing when it contacted my head, and knocked me straight into the Christmas tree.
"Ow. Mom's going to be pissed that I'm bleeding on her floor."
"Don't call my handwriting crappy."
"Okay, yes, you served me right. Next time, just aim me towards the couch, or the hardwood floor, or anything but this stupid Christmas tree of pointy death."
She cracked up, as did I. My ears rung for the next ten minutes, and I took another break for my shoulders. When it came time to give things another try, I found out that I was right. The second I un-taped that neat coil of wires and tiny pointy lightbulbs, they snarled into an unholy mess.
It took a full 45 minutes to untangle a single string, and I'm usually a very competent person when it comes to knots.
"You are bad at Christmas lights."
"No, you're the one who wrapped them up all tangled and crap. This makes you the one who sucks at Christmas lights. Aren't you supposed to be helping instead of mocking me!?! How about this respect your elders business too!! Get with the program!"
When all had been carefully untangled, and laid nicely in a trail on the floor through the length of three rooms, a wire broke (I can only assume) and half the string went out. The first attempt to fix the issue came with the inspiration that maybe it was just a bad bulb.
I belted out a theatric "I'll fix you...little jerks!!"
Working in the welding shop has built a lot of strength in my hands. In this case, maybe a little too much good was done. The offending bulb shattered between my fingers as I tried to pull it out.
"Ah...nuts."
The remaining plastic-ey socket bits wouldn't come out of the actual socket, and were too small for even my usually nimble fingers to grasp. I ran for the pliers, and pried things out while my sister sat back and kindly pointed out all my destructive tendencies and mistakes.
"Thankyou for...all of that. You can stop now."
The next bulb I grabbed also shattered despite my trying to be delicate and gentle with it. My sister was nearly in tears laughing by my forth attempt and broken bulb.
"JERKS. You are all little JERKS."
"And now you've resorted to talking to inanimate objects."
"These lightbulbs are not inanimate objects. They sentient pointy little beings and they are mocking the crap out of me. Inanimate objects do not have the ability to mock the crap out of things, let alone people."
"That didn't even sound ladylike."
"Really? Here, I'll show you how good I can do ladylike."
I took the pliers in my hand, and daintily smashed the next three in the row on purpose, exclaiming in delicate tones, "Oops! Oh dear! Oh my!" then spoiled the effect by growling out (voice hoarse from the wicked cold) "That'll learn you!!! Pointy little fiends!!!"
The next string was just as tangled, but most of the bulbs worked. With help, the lower half of the tree was dressed nicely up in the softly glowing lights of red, green, yellow and blue. The unruly strand of lights will be strung out from one corner of the house, and used as a night-time precision .22 target. For the rest of the tree, I think we're giving those new LED light strings a shot.
For now, if you're less than 3' tall, and don't know to look up, our tree looks perfect.
Merry Early Christmas.
So...it's that time of the year again, folks. The ground has turned mysteriously white and all cold. Carols are being played, and once again, the Salvation Army bell ringers are out in force, making stingy people feel guilty everywhere they go.
What is going on you might ask? Why, haven't you heard? The new and highly commercialized Christmas has finally taken over the northern realms of Minnesota gosh darn it! And you better be as excited as heck and start whipping out those wallets and all the cash and magic plastic within!!
Well, actually, Christmas decorations were put on display the day before Halloween, so this whole Christmas thing has been approaching much like a freight train, with horns blasting to beat sixty. You always hear that heart-stopping blast before you see the thing coming, and it always scares the living tar out of everyone within range. It's a pretty rude awakening, and I don't particularly like waking up that well anyways.
Now it's confession time, even though you probably already guessed. I never get that stoked about Christmas. I hate Christmas music, and I would rather disappear into a quiet corner instead of going out to work parties and public celebrations.
What I do like, and have come to greatly appreciate in the past year, is the chance to give a little extra to my family, and the little bit of time that I'll get to spend with them. I also like going in on gifts that I know will be used and enjoyed for a good long while to come.
My household is very low key. We do put up a tree, and we do put lights on it and maybe even a few ornaments. A good half-month after everyone else has their house overstuffed with useless decorations that make simple living impossible, and Christmas cookies all baked and half of already gone stale, we clear a corner and put the tree up.
This year, since I'm temporarily unemployed, it became my responsibility to put up the tree with the help of my younger sister, who is home from college. We aren't the best of friends, nor are we anything alike, but I'd consider myself on good enough terms to be sociable and function in a house on a shorter term basis. Don't get me wrong though, I will personally <insert really really violent and graphic life ending actions> the first person to harm a hair on her head.
...er...
Our Christmas tree is over 25 years old. This means that if it tips over and happens to land on someone, a trip to the hospital for stitches will be in order. Every last branch has sharp twisted wires coming out of the end. By the time I had the thing pulled out of the gigantic storage tote, mostly assembled and somewhat standing, it looked as if I'd just tried to force a cat into a bathtub full of water. My arms are covered in cuts and scratches.
By the time that was over, I had to sit down. Although we'd had some good laughs, I have some severe arthritis or bursitis or both in my shoulders that has really knocked me off my feet. On top of that, I am slowly recouping from a wicked cold.
That sit down episode lasted about six hours. Then came time for the lights. They were all wrapped up in a neat coil, labeled "GOOD LIGHTS THAT WORK." I stupidly opened my mouth to comment "There's no way this'll work, that's too easy. All labeled perfect in your crappy handwriting and everything. Crazy."
I ducked the pillow that came thundering my way. My sister was never athletically gifted, but she rarely misses my thick head. Also, she's a lot bigger than I am, and she was also close enough that she hadn't even let go of the thing when it contacted my head, and knocked me straight into the Christmas tree.
"Ow. Mom's going to be pissed that I'm bleeding on her floor."
"Don't call my handwriting crappy."
"Okay, yes, you served me right. Next time, just aim me towards the couch, or the hardwood floor, or anything but this stupid Christmas tree of pointy death."
She cracked up, as did I. My ears rung for the next ten minutes, and I took another break for my shoulders. When it came time to give things another try, I found out that I was right. The second I un-taped that neat coil of wires and tiny pointy lightbulbs, they snarled into an unholy mess.
It took a full 45 minutes to untangle a single string, and I'm usually a very competent person when it comes to knots.
"You are bad at Christmas lights."
"No, you're the one who wrapped them up all tangled and crap. This makes you the one who sucks at Christmas lights. Aren't you supposed to be helping instead of mocking me!?! How about this respect your elders business too!! Get with the program!"
When all had been carefully untangled, and laid nicely in a trail on the floor through the length of three rooms, a wire broke (I can only assume) and half the string went out. The first attempt to fix the issue came with the inspiration that maybe it was just a bad bulb.
I belted out a theatric "I'll fix you...little jerks!!"
Working in the welding shop has built a lot of strength in my hands. In this case, maybe a little too much good was done. The offending bulb shattered between my fingers as I tried to pull it out.
"Ah...nuts."
The remaining plastic-ey socket bits wouldn't come out of the actual socket, and were too small for even my usually nimble fingers to grasp. I ran for the pliers, and pried things out while my sister sat back and kindly pointed out all my destructive tendencies and mistakes.
"Thankyou for...all of that. You can stop now."
The next bulb I grabbed also shattered despite my trying to be delicate and gentle with it. My sister was nearly in tears laughing by my forth attempt and broken bulb.
"JERKS. You are all little JERKS."
"And now you've resorted to talking to inanimate objects."
"These lightbulbs are not inanimate objects. They sentient pointy little beings and they are mocking the crap out of me. Inanimate objects do not have the ability to mock the crap out of things, let alone people."
"That didn't even sound ladylike."
"Really? Here, I'll show you how good I can do ladylike."
I took the pliers in my hand, and daintily smashed the next three in the row on purpose, exclaiming in delicate tones, "Oops! Oh dear! Oh my!" then spoiled the effect by growling out (voice hoarse from the wicked cold) "That'll learn you!!! Pointy little fiends!!!"
The next string was just as tangled, but most of the bulbs worked. With help, the lower half of the tree was dressed nicely up in the softly glowing lights of red, green, yellow and blue. The unruly strand of lights will be strung out from one corner of the house, and used as a night-time precision .22 target. For the rest of the tree, I think we're giving those new LED light strings a shot.
For now, if you're less than 3' tall, and don't know to look up, our tree looks perfect.
Merry Early Christmas.
