I don’t decorate much for Christmas. The two Christmas celebrations I attend — Christmas Eve & Day with my sister and nephew, and a second January Christmas with the whole family — are all at other people’s houses, which means I’m not decorating for anybody but myself. And I don’t like clutter.
Nevertheless, it’s about now that I’m finally prompted to give some sort of nod to the holidays by putting up some minimal decorations “to get into the mood.” I bought a little poinsettia — I like poinsettias, and could easily buy dozens, if I weren’t careful — and dug out a stocking for the mantelpiece, since I have a fireplace this year. I also set out a basket with a pinecone and glittery-fake-fruit arrangement, which is my nod to the obligatory Christmas bling. Any Christmas cards I receive will go on the mantel, as well, although fewer and fewer people bother with them each year, which I find kind of sad.
Oh, yeah, and I decorated Artifact.
Artifact’s been in the family since 1980, and decorating him for Christmas is a family tradition. Well, at least, my sister and I insisted on doing it every year, and we wore down the parents. Now that Artifact has taken residence in my home for the time being, it falls to me to keep the tradition alive, although my sister helped me scrounge his holiday accessories to ensure the accurate reproduction of decorations past.
Now Artifact stands over the room, looking like a pagan Druidic totem appropriately decorated for the winter solstice (hmm, maybe I should find some misteltoe for him, too), his regal golden gaze watching over the stocking on the mantel and the basket of bling on the cedar chest.
I’ve decorated for Christmas.