It had to start sometime: The Christmas Spirit. My Humbug Level developed very quickly when I moved here from the Northeast eleven years ago this month. It seemed that--finally--I could give up the sing-songy carols, the messy trees, the snow, and especially that more-pious-than-thou attitude of the most famous Christian day. Finally my dream of having a palm tree next to me on December 25 was realized.
Dear Terry was the first to start the assault when he began decorated the house in a big, vulgar way; that seemed OK. The white garland ringing the staircase, the aluminum tree with the color wheel, odd-very odd--figurines he found in bizarre stores, and (most of all) the Hammacher Schlemmer disco wheel on the front lawn that sends a cascade of snowflake-like lights "falling" on the front of the house, all seemed so very natural here in Florida.
But, in the second Christmas spent with Leopoldo, I am finding the ugly head of a warm-hearted Christmas about to leap up. Every time I turn a corner there is a new wreath or object of holiday decoration. Up until today they still had a bit of glitz and chintz to pass, but now there is the Saks teddy bear, complete with a bag of designer chocolates. Tomorrow I have been warned that we are going to Miami to buy "some real decoration" (South Beach wouldn't bore itself). Although it is too early to buy live wreaths and all the problematic needles on the floor they produce, I did hear the word "lights".
I guess I should get out my eggnog recipe; at least liquor is involved in that spirit.