Decking the Halls

Good morning, Everyone. It’s a cold and blustery Sunday on the south shore of Long Island. Suddenly, the trees are bare, and I have to zip up my coat and wear closed shoes outside. The days got shorter. Like everyone else, we crave for the light. It’s time to deck the halls. 

 It is usually up to me to pull from the attic, sort, disentangle, the Christmas decorations. Every December I promise myself to pack the menagerie in tidy and well-labeled bins so I wouldn’t have to spend most of the day searching and unjumbing strings of lights, and pieces of collected decor. I never do. By January 7th, everything is rolled up, and shoved into containers and brought back to their corner in the attic. 

Don’t get me wrong. I do enjoy the holiday fuss and bother. It is that one time of year to rearrange and shake up the same old look for the festive season. 

Once I pile everything on and around the dining room table, it is time to clutter the rooms with red, green, and gold. In years past, I crafted pine cone and cloth wreaths, cross stitched stockings,and sewed snow families and elf dolls (before the Elf-on-the-Shelf craze). Gifted centerpieces adorn shelves and tables. The nativity gets a safe perch since grandkids believe the ceramic figures are action figures. For years I set up and expanded a Dickens Christmas scene, complete with moving figurines and timed lights. Once I realized it took up more room than a tree and interfered with walking through rooms, I had to reduce and later donated the set.  

The outside displays offer twinkly beacons on these cold, short days. In our more abled bodied days, Matt strung up lights from the house gutters, tracing the outline of the house with colors. He blanketed the bushes with netted white lights simulating frost. He carefully plans out the length of extension cords, the load on the plugs, and figures out the timers. 

My dad hooked up those big drop lights along the front of my childhood home. He climbed up and down rickety ladders, changing a bulb and adjusting an extension cord. The one outdoor plug always held additions and extensions, but he somehow never popped the fuse. 

These days, climbing ladders and reaching over eves is not a good idea. Matt and I consented to those sparkly light show beams. We plant the projector on the front lawn and a light show dances on the house. 

The lights are up and brighten the short days. The tree is next. 

What are your holiday decorating traditions? 

That’s it, Everyone. Stay safe!

Thank yous go out to Natalie the Explorer who keeps the Weekend Coffee Share percolating each week.

Have a good week. Make it FUNTASTIC!

Enjoy ❤️.   Like 👍.  Share 😊. 

Schedule your Book Club Events and School Author Visits. Available in LIVE and Virtual platforms!

Download FREE Curriculum Connections

If you had purchased a paperback or ebook The Heart of Bakers and Artists, The Dreams of Singers and Sluggers and/or Becoming America’s Food StoriesThank you!

Help your fellow book club friends and bibliophiles find a great read by leaving a review on Amazon and in your Goodreads account. Here are the helpful links:

The Heart of Bakers and Artists

The Dreams of Singers and Sluggers

Becoming America’s Food Stories

Hope you are hungry. Becoming America’s Food Stories recalls the tales that have been told around my family’s dinner table. The histories explain the motivations over bowls of macaroni, antics play out while slurping soup, and laughter echoes throughout the dining room. Pull up a seat. There’s always room.
The Heart of Bakers and Artists is set in the Lower East Side of Manhattan, 1911. The story follows nine-year-old Lily, an American-born child of Sicilian immigrants, who wants to prove she is not a little kid. To be a big kid in the crowded tenement neighborhoods, she must tackle bigotry, bullies, disasters, dotty bakers, and learn to cross the street by herself
The Dreams of Singers and Sluggers picks up where The Heart of Bakers and Artists left off.Lily has big dreams to sing out with her powerful voice, but must do EVERYTHING, since Mama fell into a deep depression, the baby is sick, and the “Black Hand” terrorizes the neighborhood, threatening her chance to sing at the New York Highlanders Fourth of July baseball game.
Antoinette Truglio Martin is the author of Hug Everyone You Know: A Year of Community, Courage, and Cancer. The memoir is a wimpy patient’s journey through her first year of breast cancer treatment.

11 thoughts

  1. Thank you Antoinette for your coffee share. There is one more link-up next week on Dec. 17 before a short break. I hope to see you again then. If not, happy holidays to you and your family! Weekend Coffee Share will return on January 7th.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You have done an amazing job with eth weekend Coffee Share this year. All good wishes and positive energies to you and yours this holiday season.


  2. Hi, Antoinette – I can relate completely. I am the one in our family assigned to retrieve the Christmas gear and untangle the lights. In my case, I need to go into our crawl space for this hunting and gathering.
    This year I decided to be minimal about the whole thing. It worked like a charm. I think that I will be able to get everything into one big box (at least no more than two) so I’ll be better prepared for next year (she say with confidence).
    Wishing you a very merry Christmas and a wonderful year ahead!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. One of our decorations is a small table top Christmas tree, made from pretty lights. The bulbs long gone, the chain of stores long gong. I had the foresight to buy extra bulbs at the time and by chance a top up from eBay. Every year I put it away working and without fail we pull it out the box and a bulb has gone. It’s like a law of physics. It’s a real pain as it’s serial in nature so I have to pull a bulb out at a time, test it and pop it back. This year I sat down with a glass of wine to do it and tackled it head on…..and alls good in the world. Thanks for the share

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.