Friday, December 19, 2008

I've decided

to be a curmudgeon in my mature years. I'm going to embrace my inner Maxine and just lay it all out there. No reason to hold back now. What am I waiting for? Being 60 is very freeing. People will either admire your forthrightness or write you off as being senile a little early. But in either case, I get to say how I feel. You may agree with me or you may not but that's the fun. Comment away.
And there is so much out there to talk about. Not just in the news, although, Lord knows, we could spend hours on that. No, just every day life is a gold mine.
Take Christmas lights, for instance. I have always been a big fan of Christmas lights on the house. Every year my husband and I have a big discussion on how much and where. Part of his hesitance is that he knows he's going to be the one to put them up so he always subscribes to the theory that less is more. Me, not so much. I like lights. But I don't want to get crazy about it. Outline the house, lights in or on the windows. Definitely a lit wreath on the door. And I love my lit up deer on the front lawn.
Perfect. Just enough. I hate when it's overdone.
Then, last night we drove through town on our way to a restaurant for dinner. Most of the houses were lit up and most were well done.
Except for those few who want to test the electric grid to see if they could single-handedly bring on a blackout. I'd hate to see their electric bill. There is one house especially that I'm sure is visible from the space station. I just have to ask. Why?
And please spare me the chaser lights and the blinking lights than could bring on a seizure if you stare at them too long.
Clark Griswold would be proud.

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