His Name Is Hans
Sorry, Erin, no pictures on my garden this time, but to make up for it, I've got pictures of my new baby.
Hans.
We picked up Hans on Saturday. He was a bit uptight. Who could blame him? The poor guy's been uprooted from his home in a tragic circumstance, taken from all who love him and whom he loves, and brought down to Texas. (I feel your pain, buddy.) We took him home, let him relax in a warm place with a glass of brandy (actually, it was a glass of sugar water).
Sunday, he let his hair down, and we gave him new clothes. He's right at home n
ow, happy and shining.
Meet Hans.
And for a little more Christmas cheer, here are a few other pics of my living room:
Yes, I have three trees in my living room. Yes, that one is completely red (with red lights). And, yes, I also have a tree in my bedroom. That tree has a legacy, though. You see, once upon a time, when my parents married, my mother's parents' neighbor, Rose, gave her old tree to my parents. Sometime in college, my parents passed it on to me. I call her Rose in honor of her original owner. Rose (the tree, not the neighbor) is three and a half? four? feet tall with white lights wrapped around each branch (of which there aren't many).
Oh, and yes, that's my computer on the chair next to the fireplace. With all these trees, why lock myself up in the office to work? Almost everything in my living room is packed away in a closet to make room for the Christmas paraphernalia. Gotta love it. I like to think of it as the snowmen--excuse me, snowpeople--ward of the insane asylum.
Throughout the month, I'll share some fun Christmas tidbits with you.
10 comments:
I'm having a hard time getting that old Christmas spirit this year. But I'm glad you found yours.
Hans. Lookin' good. Can't see the blue lights though, so I think I need a night time shot of the old guy.
I have had to decree that NO Christmas decorating will occur in our house until it is clean. It's as much for my sake as it is for the kid's. I hope we can get spic n' span before Han's family tree is picked over too much.
Handsome Hans :)
I have to take pictures of our new tree. It's big. It doesn't fit. We had to improvise.
(Oh and no, that wasn't my word count for one day!! Pshaw! Are you kidding me? I'm laughing hysterically. I did like 1600 today. But it's the running total and I've never written that much in my life)
Wow, you name your trees. Cool. Never heard of that.
Heather, I love your Christmas excitement and the fact that you name your trees.
My kids would LOVE your house - more than one Christmas tree is their ultimate goal in life right now. (they each want one in their room!)
I get attached to the trees. Parting at the end of the season is tearful. Last year, my husband was kind enough to fill a bowl with Ralph's--last year's tree--needles and an ornament that I kept in my bathroom for months.
It runs in the family. My sister, when she was five, dragged the tree from the curb back to the house singlehandedly, sobbing all the way.
I'm trying to remember what last year's tree was named, but I do remember he was named :).
We'll be decorating this weekend, so I suppose pictures will be coming sooner or later.
Hmmmm, does your blog usually not allow me to link to my Typepad blog?
Oh, well, here's the link....
Robin @ PENSIEVE
Yup, Robin. Last year, his name was Ralph. (The year before--Doug, and the year before that--Charlie.)
it is so hard to get rid of the tree without naming one.
Of course here, we would call him .uh... Douglas Fir
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