'Tis the season for lighting Yankee Candle balsam fir votives.
'Tis also the season for hanging live wreaths.
For eating candy canes and watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
Both old and new versions, which I normally wouldn't say because I'm a stickler for keeping traditions exactly as they've always been but Jim Carrey's Grinch costume is just too adorable for words.
But I digress.
'Tis not the season, however, to have love/hate relationships. It's a Scrooge-ish thing to do.
But I have to admit I am cultivating one.
Not one that eats away at my sooooooul, but love/hate feelings nonetheless.
A friend of mine turned me onto this blog by Katie months ago and I have been enamored by it ever since.
I can't exactly put my finger on what the blog is all about, it's just a smattering of pictures.
Really, really wonderful pictures.
Wonderfully clean, simple pictures that show just how awesome her little family is.
Awesome and perfectly tattooed.
She wears pantyhose while decorating the Christmas tree for crying out loud. This is adorable. Do you know what I wore to decorate my tree? $5 Reebok stretchy pants that I got at Value City when I was seventeen. Oh, and a sweatshirt over the t-shirt I wore to bed the night before. Goodness gracious.
And is this not the most relaxing place to take a siesta? My photo of this scene would include rolling tumbledoghairs and a book on the history of pancakes. There would also be cheese and cracker crumbs scattered throughout the rug.
Oh that rug, I could fall asleep just looking at it.
Now, when I call this a love/hate relationship I have with Katie and her blog, I don't in any way mean that I hate anything about her. I love how her pictures inspire me to have a more simple life, and that having or doing less can be oh-so satisfying.
Honestly, have you ever found so much relief in a pomegranate?
There really is no hate here, I should really label this a love/tears-hair-out-in-frustration relationship. I get frustrated at how not-simple having a simple life can be. My days are full of unfolded laundry, piles of wool and dog hair, sloppy pizza and cranky complainers.
Of which I have no pictures, you're welcome.
So until I'm able to reduce all my cares in the world to finding the best way to arrange fall foliage I will just have to learn to be satisfied with trimming my tree while wondering when I washed my hair last and relaxing with a book on my favorite breakfast food as my neighbor blasts club tunes.
Because I'm sure even Katie had to deal with moments of anxiety//road rage//stinky feet//less-than-perfectness before finding her groove, too.