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As is the case for most of you, I'm guessing, Christmas is creeping up on me. And some of the things that are included in the holidays really give 'creeping' a literal meaning! I heard Bob Dylan singing "The Little Drummer Boy" on the radio before I could cover my ears quickly enough. Don't get me wrong; I love Bob Dylan, but "The Little Drummer Boy?" Really, Bob? It just shouldn't be.
My enthusiastic and non-Grinchy neighbors already have the lights on their houses all lit up.
Some of you might remember that last year, Gus climbed our tree and knocked it over, so we had to tie it to the stair banister. He climbed it more than once. I can't even imagine what Booker will do to a tree, or any holiday decor. So it won't go up until the last minute.
I am particularly drawn to the photo above that I have been playing with. I took it in Maine. It is of a pile of ropes and net and lobster traps and an upside-down boat, all set off by a pile of Christmas lights. I don't know what the lights were doing there, but I kind of like the idea of just taking a mess of lights out and tossing them in the yard, then plugging them in. I think it might make a spectacular statement. After all, if Bob Dylan can sing "The Little Drummer Boy," anything is permissible... Perhaps I will make this photo my holiday card. Pa-rum-pa-pum-pum.