Christmas Decorations--New

"Which one do you like?" I asked holding up a silver snowman and a gold snowflake.

"Do I have to?" Mr. Wonderful said rolling his eyes in the busy Christmas aisle of the local holiday store.

"It's a tradition worth continuing."  

"But I don't want one."

"I want you to want one."

"I was afraid of that." 

Ahhh, Christmas. It's the only time of the year that I buy frivolous things like blenders, mixers and a wedding anniversary gift for my spouse and me. Growing up, I received a new ornament every year and I decided--yesterday--to restart the tradition this year in our new house. Which meant that I needed a new ornament, Mr. Wonderful needed a new ornament and my car needed a new hood ornament. 

Okay, maybe "need" was pushing things a little too far. So if I didn't "need" one, at least I really, really wanted one with a cherry and whip cream on top. To make me feel better about buying superfluous things, I was insisting that Mr. Wonderful also get an ornament. It was with this latter element that I erred on several fronts: 1) I took a man shopping; 2) I did this during the holiday rush; 3) I wanted him to choose a decoration?! Had I gone mad?!

Mr. Wonderful is many things: handsome, dependable, talented, handy, funny, charm-- But I digress. My point is, Mr. Wonderful is many things except a decorator. He does not like frou-frou decorations and the only thing he dislikes more that frou-frou decorations is being forced to buy frou-frou decorations on a busy Saturday at the mall 10 days before Christmas. Suddenly I felt guilty for dragging him here.

"If you want to forget this and go home, do it," I said with a shrug.

"Great!" he said pulling the car keys out of his pocket and bee-lining for the mall exit. Oh, no! If I didn't stop him he'd be gone, I'd have to get his and my ornaments and then bum a ride home from Santa or one of his elves because having seen the carnaval-like atmosphere at the mall with frantic shoppers and different Christmas tunes blaring from every different store, my spouse would never return to the mall to pick me up. I'd be stuck there with "Grandma Got Run over by a Reindeer" into infinity. I needed to do something fast.

"Before you go, pick out your own ornament." He stopped in his tracks.

"You want me to pick out an ornament?"

"I know you hate frou-frou decorations."

"But I hate frou-frou decorations."

"Just get whatever you want." His eyes locked on mine and he paused. For six full seconds.

"I'll only get an ornament if Jackson gets one, too." 

In this world there are givers and takers and I was a definite giver, helping my family, friends, and complete and utter strangers. There wasn't a taking bone in my body. But our tuxedo cat, Jackson, he was a serious taker. He took food, toys and all of our attention at all hours of the night and day meowing incessantly until he got petted, brushed and stroked enough to his liking. It was enough to turn Mother Theresa over in her grave. Why should we get our cat an ornament? 

"Deal?" Mr. Wonderful said sticking out his hand. Try as I might, I couldn't be stingy at this time of the year, not even toward the ultimate feline taker.  

I shook my spouse's hand and he disappeared among the ornament racks looking for the ideal ornament, looking for something that spoke to him. Meanwhile I spun the rack looking for something for Jackson, when BOOM! I found it! It was an ornament with a cat on it that totally summed up Jackson's taker life and luxury lifestyle. 

Just then Mr. Wonderful returned grinning. He'd found an ornament for himself.

"That was fast," I said being infected with Mr. Wonderful's excitement. "Let's see it." He held up a papier mâche ball.

"It's not frou-frou," he said. "Plus I can fix it up anyway I want it to. Although I sort of like it just as it is."

"It's perfectly you." I said admiring the simplicity of his ornament and taste. "Here's Jackson's," I said holding up a confection with a beret-wearing cat on a settee covered in glitter. Mr. Wonderful laughed. 

"It's so luxurious, frou-frou and totally him!"

With ornaments bought and mission accomplished, we left the busy mall holding hands to go decorate our tree. And our tree wasn't frou-frou at all.

Christmas Decorations--Old

"Look at this one," I said removing an ornament from the box marked "Christmas".
"It's… uh, well… it's unique," Mr. Wonderful said sipping his espresso.
"I painted it myself."
"How old were you?"
"20."
"O-kay."

It's Christmastime, that wonderful time of the year when we celebrate the season of giving with eggnog, mulled wine and 316 local performances of "The Nutcracker". Even if Mr. Wonderful were giving me grief about my hand-painted ornament, I could take it because I enjoy Christmastime. My mom and grandmothers preferred this holiday above all others and instilled in me an appreciation for the sights, sounds and decorations of this festive season. Although they failed to give me any painting skills.

Every year when I was a kid, my parents bought me a new Christmas tree ornament. Some years the ornaments were elegant, other years they were creative, funny or so-so place holders. Each one serves as a marker of a childhood.

Now in my own home, I unpacked these ornaments and hung them on a tree.

Here are some of my ornament highlights.

Every tree should have a nutcracker. This mini version even has a mouth that opens and closes to crack any nuts tiny enough to fit in his pie hole.

One of the joys of Christmas is making things with your own hands--like sugar cookies, wreaths and ornaments. Here's a hand-painted one of a rhinoceros. Although rhinos are not the cuddliest or most Christmasy of animals, growing up I really liked them and have several rhino ornaments. I still like this one even if Mr. Wonderful was underwhelmed by the painting.

Christmas ornaments needn't be just angels, lowing sheep and virgins. I also liked this one of "Mater" the pickup truck from the Cars movie.

But at the end of the day, the simple ornaments are the best. This one remains a perennial favorite.

Hoping you deck your tree in style!