My husband doesn't like heights. He certainly doesn't like climb-the-ladder-and-stand-on-icy-roofs kind of heights. So our Christmas lights haven't always been the talk of the town. But he knows that I like lights and, more than that, he knows his kids do. So, every year, he does his best to have some manner of twinkling bulbs for Christmas.
Last year, he had a brilliant idea. He gave me permission to spend money at the after Christmas sales on lawn decor that doesn't involve him spending hours on a slick roof. I got to shop. He was freed from the looming possibility of certain death. It was a win-win for everyone.
I purchased a lighted snowman, a twinkling snowflake and a cute sign for the yard. Yesterday he and Garrett built the various items and then called me out of the warm house into the bitter cold (and by bitter cold I mean anything under 60 degrees--you know that right?) to figure out where to put them. We decided to put up one strand of lights to tie everything together. As Troy and I were working on getting the strand up, I glanced at the sign.
"Let it snow!" it reads. And it just comes across as really, overly enthusiastic about it.
I bought it willingly, is the point.
The thought crossed my mind that I should have looked for something that read, "Let it be hot!" Or, "Dreaming of a Hawaiian Christmas!"
But, in all honestly, if I'm going to live somewhere that snows, it might as well do so in December. So, I have a lot of rules, is what I'm saying. No snow in November. No snow past March 31, please. But plenty of it in December because a white Christmas really is a beautiful Christmas.
So, let it snow.
You heard it hear first, folks. And now you can all fall over dead from the shock.