Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Merry Christmas, Pass The Pumpkin Please
I love Christmas in the 'burbs. And, I inevitably I find a giggle in my short everyday travels. Some people say that their children make them laugh. Mine for the record only give me gray hair, for which I had to take a short ride out of the cul-de-sac yesterday to find Clairol's #363 medium golden brown hair coloring to take care of the situation. The Muffin Man watched and said, "Don't they just have some Grecian Formula for that?" "Uhh, yeah and this is it, Bright Eyes." I explained. Grecian formula for girls.
Back to why it is not my children, but rather my neighbors who are putting putting the kick in my holiday season. Here is why. Look at the picture, no those aren't supersized umber colored holly berries. It was taken on the sly by moi today, standing out in the street, with the super zoom acting like my holiday lights were so dang cute I must preserve the moment for the non-existent scrapbook. Pumpkin pie anyone? Maybe the folks at Starbucks could swing by pick them up and use it for my favorite pumpkin spice latte. I'll take mine without the mold. What do you think Mary thinks? Is she saying, "Hey, you remembered the pagan Halloween but you couldn't remember my baby boy's birth?"
Look up Mary, no one forgot about Christmas.
I know this goes without saying but how do you take the time to put up very nice tasteful bough of holly complete with lovely red bows and then not notice that the pumpkins are working themselves into composte on the concrete step 12 inches behind you?
And, yes I do live in a glass house so heretofore no one and I mean no one is ever allowed to open a closet in my house ever again, unless they are related to me and really need a mismatched sheet set or a 27 year old towel with holes.
Recently the Muffin Man won $75 in Vegas while there on business. There is a brand new double or nothing bet with the wife that we will have pumpkin soup by Easter.
And that my friends is the multi-holiday update from this corner of the cul-de-sac. Pumpkin pie and all.