fa la la la la, etc.
Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and a happy December 24th to those who don't! I hope your day is filled with all the people and things you love. ♥
Our Christmas Eve was perfection, pretty much. We brought in the tree around noon and the usual half-hour-long ordeal of "Is it straight?"/"Just another little bit to the left"/"Is it straight?"/"Try tugging it this way..."/"IS IT STRAIGHT?" took no more than five minutes. VICTORY! The parentals decorated it and my mom and I set up the nativity scene while making inappropriate jokes about three-legged sheep and the token black king, plus marveling at the fact that, after inheriting my grandparents' set of figurines, we are now in possession of three camels. THREE. Who the fuck needs three camels in their nativity scene? Us, apparently. (I'm not even going to talk about the fact that the middle-sized camel is wearing the bell from a Lindt chocolate easter bunny around his neck. ... to mask the place where it broke off and had to be glued back on. [NOT OUR FAULT, THOUGH. IT CAME INTO OUR HOUSE THAT WAY.] We celebrate the Lord's birthday with the appropriate amount of piety around these parts.)
Possibly the highlight, though, was the new pastor who helped lead the 11 p.m. service; he'd accessorized his robe and ruffly neck thing with some shiny emo bangs and talked about the Beatles in his sermon. WE LIKE HIM. HE CAN STAY.
Our Christmas Eve was perfection, pretty much. We brought in the tree around noon and the usual half-hour-long ordeal of "Is it straight?"/"Just another little bit to the left"/"Is it straight?"/"Try tugging it this way..."/"IS IT STRAIGHT?" took no more than five minutes. VICTORY! The parentals decorated it and my mom and I set up the nativity scene while making inappropriate jokes about three-legged sheep and the token black king, plus marveling at the fact that, after inheriting my grandparents' set of figurines, we are now in possession of three camels. THREE. Who the fuck needs three camels in their nativity scene? Us, apparently. (I'm not even going to talk about the fact that the middle-sized camel is wearing the bell from a Lindt chocolate easter bunny around his neck. ... to mask the place where it broke off and had to be glued back on. [NOT OUR FAULT, THOUGH. IT CAME INTO OUR HOUSE THAT WAY.] We celebrate the Lord's birthday with the appropriate amount of piety around these parts.)
Possibly the highlight, though, was the new pastor who helped lead the 11 p.m. service; he'd accessorized his robe and ruffly neck thing with some shiny emo bangs and talked about the Beatles in his sermon. WE LIKE HIM. HE CAN STAY.