For this reason, I was pleasantly surprised when my other half, B-ry, volunteered to make some ornaments for our little tree. I say "little" because by most people's standards our tree is teeny. Considering our previous tree was three apples high and was snagged from the dollar section of Target, believe me when I say the four-footer we got this year is HUGE by comparison. I'm cool with catering to the masses, so "little" it is. I was also taken aback because B-ry isn't exactly "crafty." He is an accountant. I'm pretty sure one of the requirements to become a CPA is swearing an oath in kitten blood that you will never make use of glitter, ribbon, or a glue gun.
So, despite this egregious breach of protocol on his part, we were off to the craft store. We spent half an hour one Sunday night picking just the right ribbon. We hand-selected Styrofoam eggs, making sure to pass on the ones that had been gouged by the grubby-fingered, boogery-nosed spawn of scary craft folk. After finding just the right straight pins, we waited in line for what seemed like another half an hour while two women were asking the price of everything in their line of vision while simultaneously trying every way they could to not pay for the crap in their cart. We were later told they were gypsies. I'm not sure how this was obvious to the gentleman behind them, but I guess I could have missed their "Hey! HEY! We're gypsies!" shirts. Anyhoo, we finally headed home so my sweetie could begin the painstaking process of ornament genesis.
I set him up with scissors, an old velvet jewelry tray, and a ruler. He measured. He cut. He folded. He pinned. And by bedtime, 1/32 of the first ornament was finished. The same thing happened the next night when he came home from work. And the next night. He took the following night off (crafty accountants need their sleepy-time). Then came Thursday night and the ornament was nearing completion. By the time The Soup came on Friday night we were the proud parents of one mighty fine ribbon-and-Styrofoam baby. One. Singular. Uno. Nearly a week of looking at a naked tree and we now had an ornament. Luckily, my mom had provided a selection of beautiful metallic ornaments from her Super Terrific Happy Christmas Closet so we were able to put those to work for us, too.
Since the pins and ribbon have been languishing on the coffee table for a week now, I'm guessing that's all I'm going to get this year. That and the fact that it would be Valentine's Day before we had another one. In any case, it is quite lovely. I look forward to giving it a little brother or sister next year. Behold:
I call it The Highlander
