Our Pilgrims’ Heads Are Falling Off.
NaBloPoMo 29.
My husband said the tree was too big.
But we got it anyway.
Tonight as he went to bed he said, “You did really good. The lights are halfway on and the tree only fell twice.”
What I love about having to do a blog post is that it’s okay to worry more about taking a photo than caring if your husband is rushed by a mammoth Frazier Fir.
This was the first time the tree fell and it landed on top of the piano.
Casualties were a decorative plate that I never liked and . . .
Yes. Our pilgrim has no head.
Rest assured since this photo, I’ve managed to secure her head back on top of her neck so she will be ready to go next year.
I’m sure she was a little upset by the whole ordeal, but she does have the next 12 months to recoup wrapped in newspaper nestled in a box in the attic.
Sounds lovely.
Peaceful even.
Me.
I’ve got to get back to the tree.
Turning off the games and turning on a little Spotify Holiday magic.
NaBloPoMo 29, or did I say that already?
