Candy canes have to be pretty
You need a lot, like four dozen at least, even though you won't be able to see them when you're done.
Oh, and also, they face left. But I covered all of this shit last year. What I really want to talk about tonight is ornaments...
There will be several posts regarding this topic to follow, but it behooves us to kick off the series with The Rules:
1. Ornaments are hung in descending order of how many of the same there are. To wit:
A. Boxes of bulbs and apples and blown-glass pool balls.
(Destructo has requested I point out that, out of 48 glass balls -- 63, if you count the billiards -- only two are broken. And they aren't new, either. Yay for me!)
B. Boxes of other things and assorted random sets.
1. Yeah, there's one broken here. So what?
2. Weird styrofoam balls we bought in Liverpool.
3. Weird random fruit and balls and pinecones leftover from my when-I-was-little tree. It counts as a set because I said it does. Shut up.
C. Now we're down to Onesies -- ornaments you only have one of. These, if you are any sort of human person, will have a lot of memories attached. There should be more of these than there are of all the rest.
And yet somehow -- although you've been adding to them all these years, they all still fit in the same box they fit into when you were four. (Oh, and that gingerbready dude? the one in the middle there? I wrote about him last year, too.)
D. But FIRST of the Onesies are the biggy ones. The ones that take up a lot of space or weight. Gingerbready there is one of those.
The rest are these:
And I will write about them each over the next few days...
3 comments:
I so enjoy your how to decorate the tree posts. I think they are better this year than last.
Are ya'll covered up with ice?
Thanks! But no, actually, it's been raining for two days. And my wipers broke yesterday. When I was on my way home from work. So i drove home without them. And this morning I have a haircut appointment, and Johnny has a dentist one. So unless we can figure out how to change the fuse ourselves in twenty minutes, we're going to be going commando to all of that.
(Commando, in this sense, means "without wipers" and not "without underwear." But you figured that out already, didn't you?)
I hope gingerbready is not real gingerbread.
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