Merry Something or Other
Last week, I put up Christmas decorations in my apartment for the first time.
Now, to most of you, this may not seem like a big thing. For me, it's sometimes difficult to get into the holiday spirit. Between entirely too many years spent in retail and an uncanny history of really crappy things happening in my life in the winter months (yeah, still no news on the car thing...), I have a tendency to fall into the "Bah humbug" crowd. (I also tend to do most of my shopping either online or at stores that are open 24 hours in an effort to avoid people.)
Christmas decorations don't have a great track record in my household. Several years ago, my roommate decided it would be a fun idea to decorate her 6 foot tree entirely in purple decorations. Purple ornaments, purple icicles, purple garland and tinsel, and in place of an angel tree topper, a Barbie wearing a purple evening gown. It was hideous, it was tacky, but we had a blast decorating it. Unfortunately, my cat thought attacking the tree every morning was a blast as well. Since the only purple ornaments we could find were of the glass ball variety and we had hardwood floors, there was an ornament casualty nearly every day. (Yes, I know that glass ornaments, hardwood floors, and pets do not mix. We were young and foolish, OK?)
The morning ritual of attacking the tree culminated on the 27th, when I awoke to find the tree lying atop the coffee table. (Elvis, having completed his mission of killing the big purple thing, was nowhere to be found.) I sighed, went to make some coffee, and spent the rest of the morning taking the tree apart, sweeping up shards of glass, and untangling lights while watching Reservoir Dogs, chain smoking, and cursing very very loudly.
I tried again when I moved out on my own. Elvis knocked my tree over almost every day, as well as pulling down the stockings hung from the bookcase. Janis, the "default" kitty (I was supposed to watch her for a few days while a friend got settled after moving back in with his parents. He never came back to get her.), voiced her opinions on my holiday decorations by throwing up on the tree skirt. (But then again, Janis threw up on everything. I think I know why her owner never came to retrieve her.)
After that, I tossed all of my Christmas decorations into the back of my bedroom closet, where they proceeded to stay for the next five years. I had inclinations to put up the tree every year, but always decided it wasn't worth the trouble. I even went so far as to buy a slew of ornaments from the Warner Brothers Studio Store. They were still untouched in the shopping bag when I moved last year.
Since I had moved in right before Christmas last year, the last thing I wanted to do was unpack yet another box (and then repack it a week or so later), so the stockings and lights and ornaments went straight into storage. This year, I decided (with some hesitance) that I would give it a shot and try to put up the tree. I imagined that I would probably end up putting up the tree several times, given Ma Huang's lack of grace and Kismet's curious nature (and propensity to try to climb everything in the apartment).
I decided the best way to do it would be in stages. I put up the tree and adjusted the branches; after being in storage for six years, it was completely flat on one side. The cats watched with interest as I lugged the decoration boxes up from storage and placed the new green thing in front of the windows. Ma Huang tried to chew on one of the branches, but no one tried to knock over the strange new addition to the living room.
I added everything in stages. Add lights, wait for reaction. Add garland, wait for reaction. Tree topper. Ornaments. So far so good. (I was exceptionally nervous about the Warner Brothers ornaments, since the store has gone out of business and I doubt anyone is currently making a Pinky and the Brain ornament or a Marvin the Martian tree topper.)
The only casualty so far has been the tree skirt (now minus cat vomit, thank you very much). Apparently there's untold joy to be found sliding and pouncing on a green piece of fabric decorated with a candy cane pattern. Kismet is intrigued with one particular ornament (a red panda ornament from the Zoo's ADOPT program), but so far she's content to just bat at it. Both cats seem to enjoy sitting under the tree, which is very cute until one of them takes a swat at the other. I doubt the tree could sustain a round of Big Time Kitty Wrestling.
Putting up the tree has helped get me in the holiday spirit a little bit. I went to a cookie baking party with a few girls from work over the weekend. I strung up lights from my curtain rod in the living room. I wrapped all of my presents in one evening. I dyed my hair just in case I get what I really want for Christmas. I made snacks for Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's annual Christmas Eve party. I watched Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and sang along. (I also picked up on the outdated sexist themes, but I chalked it up to the age of the show.) I bought a cats an early present - a Cat Scratcher. It's essentially a block of corrugated cardboard (with the honeycombed side up) and supposedly works much like a regular scratching post. My cats haven't quite got the hang of it yet. They essentially licked all of the catnip off the top of it, pulled the cardboard out of the box, chewed on the cardboard, and pushed the box around the floor. However, neither of them sharpened their claws on the furniture last night and they pretty much left me alone while I was working on things in the kitchen.
In the midst of decking the halls and making yummy treats, I managed to find a use for guilty pleasure of arts and crafts projects. Mind you, I have the artistic ability of a retarded squirrel, but that has never stopped me from browsing the aisles at Michael's, looking for a new project to go awry. Some have gone quite well: one year, Rosencrantz and I painted daisy-shaped whirligigs and gave them as gifts for Mother's Day. I've also managed to do two halfway decent fairy sculptures from Fimo. (Granted it took me several hours each time, and I've had more failures than successes with clay modelling, but I'm still quite pleased with the ones that actually turned out right.) There have also been spectacular failures: last year I attempted to make candles. It didn't go well. I still have wax in the kitchen carpet.
This year's projects included decorating candle votive holders (painting and beadwork) and making soap. I highly recommend soap making for the craft-challenged. It's pretty much idiot-proof, and clean up is amazingly easy (because it's soap), plus your kitchen takes on the scent of the cooling glycerine and whatever fragrance added. Last night it was vanilla and cucumber melon. Yummy.
So now I've got a ton of soap in various shapes and colors and flavors. I've got a boxful of votive candles that I'm not sure if I should give out since they look like they were decorated by a seven year old. I've got pretty lights and a tree in the living room, and presents wrapped and stashed in the closet. (Presents don't go under the tree in my house, unless the present is supposed to be covered in kitty drool and teethmarks.) I've got apple cider in the fridge, to be heated and mixed with cinnamon while the Great White Death envelops the city. I've got hair with a funny chemical smell from the new dye job (went with a new color - Cinnamon Stick; it sounded festive). I've got a bottle of cheap champange set aside for New Year's Eve (which will probably be spent watching Pirates of the Caribbean on DVD; after bartending for all of those years, I don't enjoy going out all that much on that night). I've got a letter to Santa, and milk and cookies to leave out. (Of course, since I'm the only person who plays Santa in my house, I might forego the milk for a cup of tea. Or maybe a beer.)
Yeah, this is what Christmas looks like at Chez Myo. Happy holidays, everyone.