It’s not a holiday around my house until two things happen:
1. My dining room looks like someone set Dexter loose in the sale aisle at Michael’s Arts and Crafts.
2. I dress my kid in a hat with ears on it and take him somewhere festive, wherein I force him into a photo op that makes him cry. (That’s a reindeer hat in the picture. And he actually quite enjoyed the lights in Griffith Park until I tripped him while trying to get the perfect picture of his smiling face.)
And in the grand tradition of holidays, it’s not a holiday until I feel underappreciated for doing a whole bunch of shit that no one asked me to do anyway. This holiday I’m vowing to change that, because it’s not much fun for any of the parties involved. But I’m going to start adhering to that vow tomorrow. Today, I have a grievance I’d like to air.
Scott came home late last night to find me crafting away and so stressed that I had broken into the baking chocolate. But I was excited to show him my newly-adorned fig preserves. I did two versions, one for our Christian friends and another all-purpose design for the Jewish/Athiest/Pagan/Buddhist/Undecided folks in our life. He looked at the jars and said this:
I DON’T REALLY SEE A DIFFERENCE.
Talk about underappreciated. So I’m taking an informal poll. Which of these two jars do you think I’m taking to Hanukah dinner tonight? If you guess right, I’ll send you a formal invite to attend the Michael’s after-Christmas sale with me. You won’t believe the bargains on cookie tins and fake mistletoe.