My mother spent last December on her hands and knees in a crawl space.
Year after year, she carefully balanced mountains of holiday CRAP in the pine scented closet under her basement stairs. You want to see what forty years of Christmas YA-HA looks like? Okay. All we ask is that you open the door CAREFULLY: A collection of green Santas, (Seriously. If it was Santa? And he was green as opposed to red? He's probably in there), innumerable ornaments, swags a go-go, christmasy candles, giant shiny balls, at least two creches, advent calendars, wreaths, all sizes of plastic trees carefully packed up with lights and ornaments intact, holiday themed welcome mats, and a multitude of heavenly hosts singing, "Glory to God on the Highest! And Peace to his people on Earth!"
She decided to "weed out her stash" and asked what my sister and I wanted. I could have had it all: A smorgasbord of green Santas. A ton of tinsel. A plenitude of painted pine cones.
But the only thing I wanted? The one treasure? A Christmas ornament my mother bought for me years ago, when I was a little girl with dark brown hair and awkward little-girl glasses, who was crazy about Wonder Woman. Someone took a clothes pin and dressed it up to look like my hero. Right up there with turning water into wine if you ask me.
ps. Merry SITS mas to my SITS sisters!
ps. Merry SITS mas to my SITS sisters!




























