This year I decided to put a Christmas tree in my bedroom. I wasn't sure how to decorate it though, so I asked Lauren to help me.

I never should have done that. I really should have known better. I asked her for three colors and three themes. This is what happened:

_samalander: green
_samalander: blue
_samalander: mauve
_samalander: "i must scream but I have no mouth"
_samalander: "the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire"
_samalander: and uh
emmy: I should specify--one word themes
_samalander: "the best part of waking up is folgers
_samalander: oh
emmy: but I like the first one and the last one :)
_samalander: how about
_samalander: Peri
_samalander: noodles
_samalander: barndoor

For everybody's information, they do not sell ornaments or any kind of decorations with Sam's cat on them. JSYK.

So I took the colors and interpreted "barndoor" as "rustic" and/or "nature-y" and ended up with this:

( More pictures under here )

Earlier today Mom and I put up all of our outside decorations. I am...always kind of shocked by how many lights we have. Somehow it keeps multiplying each year even though we always solemnly swear to not buy anymore.


Uncle Barry is coming over tomorrow evening and he's going to teach me to cook...something. Apparently I'm not allowed to know what. And then Sunday is Mom's birthday. I got her some fancy jam, an elephant coffee mug, and some candy. For Christmas I'm giving her my old laptop; a stocking full of socks, candy, and more jam(!!!); and some handmade potholders (a set of three: one large, two small). I...may have gone way overboard with her gifts. But I just kept seeing things and going, "Ooooh! Mom would love this! And this! And that! And she ~deserves it~ for being so awesome all the time." And really, she does, because she never gets herself anything that she doesn't need so it's always very easy for me to buy things for her that are special little "just becauses."


Lately it's been hard for me to go to bed at night because all the cats have decided that it is now their bed. And it's a little bed so it's hard to squeeze in there with them. I wish I had a king size bed so that there would be ample room for my wriggly ass and all of them too.

If I don't have your address, I want it. NOW. I am notoriously bad about remembering to mail stuff out, but just like I said last year, my fingers are crossed that this will be the year that I actually get ALL of my holiday cards out. (Don't believe me? I've got a postcard I meant to send Molly in June still sitting on my desk. Sorry Molly!) Depending on how lazy I get, the cards will either be hand-made glittersplosion cards, or generic Christmas cards.

Comments are screened, but if you'd rather you can e-mail your address to me at megan[dot]c[dot]lim[at]gmail[dot]com.

I feel like there is something else I should be telling y'all but I can't remember what it is, so here is a story (or two) about my wacky mom:

I have been whining for the last few months about wanting a pork loin to cook. I've never done a pork loin before, but I want to try. Unfortunately, I am also cheap and pork loin is just pricey enough that I do not want to spend that much money to experiment. As a joke, I asked for one for Christmas. Now she is threatening to buy one and leave it under the tree all season. That would be a) gross, b) pointless because then it will go bad and I will never get to cook it. Also, this is exactly the kind of crap she teases me with every day.

Still, it's not as bad as when she watched "Blink" and dug out all of the angel statues grandmother has foistered upon us over the years in an attempt to give us God or whatever and arranged them around the house. This continued for THREE MONTHS after she saw the episode. She would move them around every time I left the room.

I'm just glad she hasn't gotten to season six yet.

So I never realized until about two years ago how lucky I am.

I've always been inclined toward "girl" things. My favorite color has been pink for as long as I can remember. I love stuffed animals. I wanted to be a ballerina once upon a time. I played dress up, wearing princess outfits and ballerina tutus.

I also had a younger brother, and we were really super close growing up. Because of this, we shared a lot of interests. We took karate together, we swapped action figures. I remember one day when I was about eleven or twelve that we spent literally climbing through a giant mud pile behind our house for fun.

And my mom and dad were always cool with that.

They supported me when I wanted to take ballet. They supported me when I wanted to take karate. They bought me stuffed animals and cars. As long as I wanted to, my mom would doll me up in frilly dresses and with fancy hair. But if I didn't, then she would go let me wade through a mud pile. I've had more skinned knees than I can count. And I totally kicked ass in my karate class.

No matter what I've wanted to do, I've had my parents' support. They never cared when I wanted to play with action figures instead of dolls. They never told me I was being stupid or predictable for wanting a fluffy pink room. If it was within their means, I wanted it, then I got it. Not just the girl things. Not just the boy things. All the things. A costume chest full of sparkly dresses, but also containing a Batman cape. A room full of stuffed animals and My Little Pony, but also with action figures and cars and K'nex and Legos.

And the thought of it honestly makes me cry because I thought all parents were like this. And over the last few years, I've realized they aren't. They tell their kids they can't do this or that. Because you're a girl. Because you're a boy. Because that isn't constructive. Because you won't learn from it. Because it's pointless. But my parents always let me explore my interests and desires no matter what direction that took me. Even when it meant I spent a year studying serial killers. Even when it meant I practiced my screechy violin for two hours a day and had to have no sound in the house during that time.

And I saw a post on tumblr earlier today that reminded me that not all parents are like that. That some parents won't let their kids do and feel and explore. But my parents did and I am so fucking lucky for that.

I don't really know what the point of this post is, but it's just my feelings. And I wanted to share.