It's beginning to look a lot (more) like Christmas!

When we were first married, Christmas stuff started popping up around the apartment, I dunno, about the 4th of July.  I had to put a strict mandate in place that prohibited such displays until after Thanksgiving.  Same with music.

I mean, seriously, Andy Williams at the beach?!  We reached an uneasy truce.
However, it was always fun to finally pull the (fake) Christmas tree out and see the kids get so excited about decorating it, hanging stockings and putting up the lights in the windows.

Never mind the excitement of the BIG DAY actually arriving.

Speaking of other accommodations that had to be reached in the Yuletide season, we have to mention  the Torpedo Ornaments.  You know, those elegant, spindle-shaped confections of sparkling glass?

MY family always had a number of them on the tree.  When I hung a beautiful one on an early tree, Paula said, "Huh?  That looks like a TORPEDO or something!"  Over the next several years, I noticed that the mortality rate of these reminders of my happy childhood on the hardwood floors was way above average.  "Ooops!" she'd say with a big grin, "There goes another torpedo!  Sorry!"

Some years later, I mentioned this conflict in a church talk around Christmas time.  Mysteriously, boxes of these graceful awe-striking reminders of the season started appearing on our front porch.

She would try unsuccessfully to deep-six them, but I always knew to check the trash carefully around Christmas time.  It was only years later that we discovered the source - some great friends in the church who had heard the talk, and who would look for examples to drop off.

Then, there was that five-year detour to South America.  We had a couple of Christmases in Colombia,

and several in Peru.

And, before we knew it, our kids were no longer kids, and they had kids of their own, and Christmas became a time to visit them and enjoy the holiday with the next generation.

However, the torpedoes still get hung, even though it's just the two of us now.  She has quit 'accidentally' breaking them, at least in my presence.

And the garlands go up, and the house begins to feel like Christmas once more.

We hope the season is reverently joyful for you, and that your torpedoes survive another season.

Dave & Paula