by tess
We shared an uneventful holiday which is exactly the way we prefer them. No decorations. No children or extended family. No drama. Just another day hanging out together. By together, of course, I mean The Hubs in the office and my queen-size butt parked firmly in front of 62" of high-def Awesome. Ahhhh, togetherness!
So we don't do the tree thing. And although I love matchy-matchy trees - the kind that you just know Paris Hilton hires designers for - I also love trees that are anti-matchy. Tree playing the role of display vehicle for miscellanea never meant as ornaments. Tree as anti-establishment, anti-holiday retrospective that expresses one's essence rather than manufactured joy or commercialized cheer. In short, a wickedly cool tree that we're nowhere near super-hip enough to create.
2010 marks the sixteenth year in a row that The Hubs and I have failed to rock out with Dick Clark and his Amazing Dropping Ball of Destiny and Renewal. We celebrated in our own quiet way. I struggled through the final hour of 2009 watching some idiot cook something. And as a new decade began, I glanced over to see the drool spilling from my beloved's lips, down his chin, and onto his dirty t-shirt. Three Two One. Happy New Year!
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