Sixth day of X-mas!

For our family, putting out Christmas decorations is pretty much the last thing we do to celebrate besides opening presents-- the Baldwin/Costich family likes to stroll into the holiday at the very last minute. I used to absolutely disapprove my parents seeming lack of care, but now I think it's pretty amazing. Our tree is usually some wonky bargain bin tree bought on Christmas eve-- we turn the patchiest side towards the wall. We forget how to put the tree's trunk in the base every year, and usually wind up tethering it to the curtain rod to extend the lives of our ornaments and cats for when they climb up into it. And, every year, my dad misjudges the height of our living room ceiling, which is now scarred with scrapes from the tree-tops of past Christmases. I love the sound of the tree hitting the ceiling, the climax to lots of family bickering over whether or not it is going to. It's usually this day that the droves of stuffed animals come out, our stockings that Mimi knitted, the ridiculous festive mugs with candy cane handles, the Santa pez, the Christmas music archive-- I mean, I could go on and on and on. How did we get this much Christmas stuff anyways-- we, a family who pretends to forget that Christmas is coming until the last possible day? I pity the families who actually celebrate it "appropriately," starting the day after Thanksgiving-- they must feel anchored to their basement storage with their mountains of Christmas kitsch. Breaking family tradition, I found myself oddly preparing for Christmas today-- I unbashfully sang "Santa Baby" as I biked through the Mission and to my studio this morning, and I'm proud about it.