Christmas pregame routine strikes fear

To say my wife loves Christmas is like saying there are a couple of teenage girls out there that think Twilight is a pretty good movie.

You know those large men you see on TV that attend NFL games shirtless covered in body paint of their favorite team? That’s my wife when the temperature reaches 45 degrees for the first time. Christmas is her team and she celebrates with greater passion than the most die-hard Jets fan.

If you were to personify my wife’s feelings for Christmas it would be a grinning Chihuahua on methamphetamine covered in glitter forever running manically towards a perpetually knocking door. And every step he takes leaves behind sentient mini-marshmallows that run around and toss your stored Tupperware all over the living room.

Below is how I imagine my wife’s inner monologue when it comes to Christmas.

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IT’S CHRISTMAS!!! (It’s August)

I’m totally going to buy tons of sparkly white, glitter-covered snowflakes and place them all over the house like a strange, magical, unmeltable blizzard that just blew in from the North Freaking Pole! A blizzard of CHRISTMAS CHEER, that is. HOW many inches of Christmas Cheer?

ALL OF THEM. All of the inches. If you’re coming to my house, you better bring a shovel. Haha, you guys. Not really.

But really.

I mean, sure, even though if REAL snowflakes were to be indoors for any length of time at all they’d form tiny puddles on the floor leading to wet socks and mold, but there’s one thing you need to concentrate on: FORGET SCIENCE. This is CHRISTMAS! Wake up and smell the cinnamon-nutmeg eggnog, people.


Guess what, America? I’m liable, at any moment, to completely Hulk out and put bows and ribbons on just about anything.

Ribbon the cat!

All I have to say is my husband better not question my decorating this year. He’ll deal with the beautiful knick-knackery or the nutcracker will have an entirely new meaning for him. We’re going to watch White Christmas on a loop starting today until he cries.

Speaking of which, have you seen these beautiful Christmas balls? If ever there was a time and place for sparkly colored balls, this most certainly is it. Where do they go, you ask? On the tree? Of course, but where else? EVERYWHERE. How’s about trying to come inside my Christmas Wonderland WITHOUT being first greeted by my Christmas balls dangling on the front door.

You know, this really seems like the perfect opportunity to replace those boring, functional bathroom towels with decorative ones with REINDEER ON THEM that have zero absorbency but make up for it by being tiny and unable to get around the towel rack without dropping them three times first. As far as I’m concerned, my bathroom business isn’t fully complete without being first having my hand cleanliness judged by Rudolph.

Twigs, leaves, pine needles and berries are gross and should be outside, right? Jingle WRONG. Not this time of year and certainly not when they’re together in a crazy circle! Wreath it up A-WREATH-a Franklin! A Christmas wreath is a circular celebration for your eyeballs. Look, if you’re going to knock on my door, you’re going to get knuckles full of meadow. Deal with it.

But where should I put it? How about on this wall? Yes, it looks OK here, but it’s missing something. Oh I know, ANOTHER WREATH IN SLIGHTLY SMALLER SCALE ATTACHED TO IT.

Double wreath miracle!

I haven’t even MENTIONED all the dried conical conifer cones. You might know them as “pine cones”, though I prefer to call them enchanted happiness delight biscuits or “holiday rockets.” You better believe each wreath is going to have about 40 or 50 of these puppies stuck to it with hot glue and smiles. The rest I’ll put in a bowl, just in case we have a squirrel over for tea. It’ll look great next to this clear plastic container full of red and green balls that exists on this and all other shelves.

Don’t even get me started on Christmas lights. Oh jingle bells, it’s too late. Tiny colored lights are probably the best thing since penicillin. Sure, penicillin cures gangrene and typhoid fever, but can it illuminate my wreath? I swear, sometimes I’ll be in a bad mood or have a broken ankle and stare at the majesty that are Christmas lights and I’ll run around the yard like an antelope for 12 minutes pain-free.

Christmas lights are like a shot of pure Christmas Cheer injected right into your cerebral cortex and spreads warmth and delight throughout your entire body. You think the sun is great? You can only stare at that for a few seconds. You can stare at Christmas lights for MONTHS. I do, anyway. I’m going to put some flashy ones around my wreath and watch a tiny squirrel’s brain melt from being so shockingly resplendent.

Ohhhh….CHRISTMAS SONGS CHRISTMAS SONGS CHRISTMAS SONGS!! Christmas songs are only the best things ever. In comparison they make Gandhi and Mother Teresa look like cannibals. Such glorious melodies. People working at department stores are so lucky they get to hear that during their entire shift.

Is it Christmas yet?


Kelly Van De Walle can be reached at or via unrehearsed Christmas carol (as sung by Patrick Stewart). Follow Kelly on Twitter @pancake_bunny.