Irony pretty silver strands flowing


pretty silver strands
flowing over limbs of tree
flat out forbidden

For some reason my husband hates those long silver plasticky (plastic-y?) strands of “icicles” you put on Christmas trees. Perhaps it is because he is the spawn of Martha Stewart’s equivalent (without all the lying and jail). Perhaps it because he is technically a Yankee. I don’t know.

My sister’s husband, who is also a Yankee, forbids her from putting icicles on her tree, too.

It is a mystery why our spouses hate the plastic silver strands so much (though by calling them “plastic silver strands” I get a glimmer of understanding).

On the other hand, I HATE AND DESPISE icicle lights on the front of people’s houses. Admittedly, when they first came out I loved them. And even now I still think the short, tangly ones are kind of pretty. But when every single suburban house in every single suburban neighborhood in every single state has icicle lights, well, I rebel against the uniformity of it.

My husband, of course, wanted to put icicle lights up on the house. Thanks to the generosity of my in-laws, we have a plethora of the lights now. But I stood firm. No icicles on the house. Lights, OK. Looking like every single house who voted Republican… no go.

So my hubby took the icicle lights and decorated the trees in the front yard with them. It looks gorgeous. I’ll try to take a picture and post it.

Anyway… icicles on the inside tree, forbidden. Icicles on the house, forbidden. Icicles on the outside trees, perfect.

And lo, unto us Christmas irony compromise is born.

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