Out with the frying pan and in with the fire

Still no comments on the previous post (except in person), but it is about time I blogged again.

I am having Christmas Tree trouble.

Newlywedded people of the world, let me advise you that keeping your first Christmas tree out of doors for five years does not do it any good. Bringing it indoors for the first occasion after that time will not elevate its looks in any way, however lovely your decorations are.

In fact, if there is not enough room left on the handful of branches to hang a few lights, or any tinsel at all, it is best not to. Decorate the rest of the room. If you have a fireplace, concentrate on that. Or a picture frame. Or even a light switch. Just don’t put the kind of Christmas tree with a less fattening centre on a table in your front window if you want to impress the neighbours. Even the fairy sheep we put on the top of the tree falls off now, so it had to settle for the not-quite-at-the-top stalky bit. But we will not give in and get a real tree because we are going away for Christmas, and we will not give in and buy an artificial one because it is not the January sales. So I am swallowing my pride and laughing in the face of commercialism. And my husband has agreed that we can shred the tree in the new year, which is still a Good Thing for the environment (and my hands).

I had a relative who was so good at selling Christmas trees that she once sold a half-tree late one December 24th to a customer, with the line that it was at least able to fit against a wall more easily… or so the story has been relayed to me. I wish she had had the chance to take Alan Sugar on.

Enough of decking halls and so forth. I am also having frying pan trouble.

I was embarrassed about not finishing my drying up this morning, because dad was due to help out by babysitting, and I like an empty draining board whenever I get the chance. On the draining board was a large frying pan. A frying pan is a symbol of all that contains animal fats, thus must not be on show when dad comes round. It does not matter that I am sure dad uses frying pans to great effect without saturated fats (explanation of fat types here). What matters is his perception.

So why am I more concerned about dad seeing a frying pan than I am about all the local neighbourhood laughing at my scraggy tree?

Maybe it’s something to do with how I see Christmas.


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