I jumped off the cliff again.
Those that know me are holding back comment I’m sure. My husband (who may kinda be a little right) says it’s quite a common occurrence. What was my Lucy Ricardo moment this time? I agreed to be a part of our neighborhood Christmas tour. It’s a lovely event, and a fundraiser for our beautiful historical neighborhood. And when I volunteered to be a part of it, I thought I was a great idea.
A year ago.
Now, less than two weeks out, it seems like an exhausting thought. 1,000 visitors will be viewing our humble abode.
We live in a lovely 130 year-old home. And showing it off seemed like a great idea. It’s a cool place. It’s been lovingly restored by our neighbor, Joe. All the original woodwork – built-ins and floors. High Ceilings. Pocket doors. Hidden rooms. Ghosts. (all friendly…truthfully). So how fun to share all this with 1,000 of our closest friends, right? As I said, a year ago it was a stellar idea.
So, thus far we’ve put up 4 Christmas Trees, decorated the fireplace mantel and decorated the front porch. This is just the beginning. There are those wonderful plastic tubs all over our house right now. The dogs have to navigate their way around a pile of snowmen and the Santa collection just to get to their dog bowls.
Thing is, I’m kinda competitive.
I don’t just want people to come into our home, check out the neat flooring, see a Christmas tree or four and leave. Nope. I had to open my mouth and say that we all will (oh, yes, I forgot about the part that I enlisted the help of my wonderful friends that volunteered to help) dress in period (meaning Dickens) costumes. Yes, there was wine involved. A lot. Don’t judge me.
So now, it’s time to come up with some great stories about each room. Back stories about the house that never really happened. (Writers are also known to be um, let’s see: spin doctors, bullshit artists, and creative thinkers).
So, here’s the next step: gather all of my wonderful friends together, plying them once again with food and wine, and brainstorm ideas for costumes, stories about each room, etc. We will gather in the dining room around the table, and come up with great ideas in the glow of the Christmas tree. (One of the masses – this one is decorated with a (surprise!) wine theme.) I’ve also convinced the daughter of a friend to gather some of her friends and sing carols in front of the house as the guests arrive. I’m all about the ambience.
I know there is a lesson in here somewhere.
It could be one of many:
1) Don’t volunteer before you think of all the angles and time commitment.
2) Embrace the love of my friends that are helping me out in my time of need.
3) Bask in the glow of the season, make 1,000 cookies to serve to the wonderful guests, and go ahead and brag about our awesome, historic home that we love living in.
4) Accept that I will never change, that I will always leap before I look, and just be glad that I can always find a way to embrace my choice.
And as always, I will sing the iconic Beatles song at the top of my lungs: I get by with a little help from my friends. This while my husband whistles the theme song from “I Love Lucy”. And, as James Stewart says, “It’s a Wonderful Life”. Or, in the infamous words of Ellen Griswold: “It’s Christmas, Audrey, and we’re all in misery”.