Let there be LIGHT!

At my house growing up there were two times of the year that we, as kids, went into hiding.  Anytime you heard my dad pulling out his tools to "fix" the sprinklers out front in the spring and secondly, when you heard him haul the big box of Christmas lights down from the garage.  Run my friends.  Just run.  I heard words come from my father that I never even knew existed.  And such an array of spittle and sweat would spew forth- it was quite a scene.

Of course as we got a little older- it got funny.  And funnier still when he eventually hired a landscaper to deal with his sprinklers in the spring.

But he has kept to his humble beginnings when it comes to Christmas lights.  Or maybe that feeling of distinct pride when you finally get the "$%^&*^" lights to do what you want them to do.  And actually- once he finally burned the icicle lights my mom bought years ago- things have gone much smoother.  He still refuses to use anything other than his big C9 lights- but it has a nice nostalgic effect when you drive up their street and see it.

That said... it's probably karma that landed me with a husband that flat refuses to put up lights.  Which means the chore falls to me if I want them.  Which I do.  And I now understand why my father became the neighborhood crazy man when the box of lights came out.

Fortunately for me... my kids don't head for the hills when I start pulling Christmas stuff out.  They are still naive enough to want to help.  Ry helped me out one afternoon and actually untangled string after string of lights.  He kind of has a knack for it.  It was impressive.



And so were the lights...