Friday, Dec. 10, 2010
Dear Diary:

We got whomped with one of those snowstorms that makes you feel as if you're never, ever going to see the sun again, that you're doomed to live in a snow cave until the polar bears come to eat you and take you out of your misery.

No need to thank me. I like to share the seasonal joy.

We got a slight break in the snow but Nature has decided to play hardball. Now the thermometer is hovering at -18C which is zero Fahrenheit, or to put that in more technical terms, Stupidly Cold.

I bundled up with multiple layers, my toasty boots, my double lined gloves and sallied forth to fill the wood box. Binky and Savannah scampered out the door with me. All was well for the 4.5 seconds it took for the temperature to register with them. Then they shot me a look that said, "It's okay for you to be out in this, Crazy Lady, but we want back in the toasty house pronto."

Fuzzy sissies.

The first thing I see when I go out the door is the glass wall, which is on my left. I admire how beautiful it looks in the snow, how the new white background makes all the texture and movement in the glass seem even more fluid. I focus on it and I studiously avert my eyes from the right side of the yard.

Now the texture comes alive

Ah, so what's on the right side of the yard?

The %&^*$# crab apple tree, of course.

Yes, project crab apple tree continues to thwart me.

I had all the balls from last year. I went out and bought 35 small balls, another 10 ginormous Chrismas Death Star Size bulbs plus I raided our own Christmas tree stash for another 20 or so bulbs. We put up two strings of lights. You would think that would be a stunningly festive show.

You would be wrong.

This is making me mental

Puny and pitiful. Amazingly puny and pitiful.

If I had put this many bulbs on the tree last year, it would have looked pretty good. Well, good in the sense of tacky-tastic, which is what I'm aiming for.

The problem here is that the tree is growing by leaps and bounds. It probably grew by about a third this summer. If it keeps this up, I will never, ever catch up. I want a Liberace tree, an Elton John tree. I want glitz and sparkle. I want to stick my tongue out at winter's dull palette.

Alas, Mother Nature won't go down easily. She continues to move the goal post on me. It's hard not to be bitter.

My frustration at this project has been a great source of amusement to the spousal unit. He makes sure to snicker loudly if I'm within earshot when he's in the vicinity of the tree because he knows this makes me mental.

The stores have sent out a whack of fliers announcing that their Christmas decorations are already half price. We have go to out anyhow to get some stocking stuffers, so I've resolved to see if I can get an armload of Christmas Death Star Bulbs.

I may be doomed, but I've resolved to go down fighting.

--Marn

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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

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2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.