We’ve never put up a Christmas tree. We’re never home at Christmas, so we couldn’t see the point. Plus, with our tiny narrow condo and crazy jungle kitten, we were discouraged from attempting any holiday décor. Anything climbable, shiny and/or dangly was just a bad idea in our household.
This year we are hosting Christmas at home and with our families coming over we’re feeling obligated to deck our halls. We have a much larger space now and the crazy kitten is now 7 years old (44 in cat years, apparently) so we bought a tree. It’s artificial. We thought it would be best as a starter tree so we wouldn’t have to worry about water and a mess of pine needles if the cats decided to pull it down.
We bought it on Monday and I’ve spent the week obsessed with decorating it. It’s been coming together slowly as I have been dropping by the various stores around town picking up ornaments. “You’re not going to go overboard, are you?” Jeremy asked as I handed him and armload of festive crap to hold onto in a Canadian Tire store. I needed to free my hands for more. “I draw the line at a miniature Dickensian village” he informed me.
Last night I got together with my friend, Jenny to pay a visit to the Southworks antique market in Cambridge in search of glass balls. The antique market is always fun and full of interesting and peculiar things, including this:
(Jenny, who is proudly without shame, posed for a somewhat vulgar photo with this statue but I thought I’d keep this post PG.)
When we were finished mocking and desecrating mother earth, I found a plethora of beautiful old ornaments that now hang on our tree.
Now, if you’ve been reading carefully, you’re probably wondering why I’m hanging delicate antique ornaments on a tree that I’m worried about out cats knocking over. I know it’s probably a bad idea. Unfortunately, my vision of the ideal tree conflicts with the reality of my environment. I have to admit, I’ve been holding my breath every time I peek in the living room.
So far, so good.