Budgets and kittens and deadlines have kept us from purchasing the grand, real tree we might have imagined. But in Williamsburg with my little brother this Christmas, the choice to borrow a neighbor’s white tree and make everything deliciously sparkly is good enough for me. I came home from work on Sunday to find a delightful little Charlie-Brown-esque white tree in a corner of the great room modestly decorated in sequins, lights, and little silvery swirls of aluminum tinsel. Yesterday afternoon we finished our shopping (everyone is getting a little–or huge–blue box this year) and I have to say, I am quite pleased with the result.
Now, I’ve just finished sculpting and painting my nails in Lilacism, my old standby. I’ve come home from a delicious evening with a dear old friend from my magazine days. And as I sit here looking at my little tree, and watching the cats run around over Oriental rugs and through hanging silk scarves, I have to admit things are looking up. It’s been a long and interesting year, and quite frankly, a pretty dismal month. But December 25th holds promise of family and love, and plenty of booze. No complaints here. Happy season, my beloved readers! I hope you all rally around your trees, Menorahs, and/or family with the same type of appreciation and love that I am lucky enough to enjoy.