Help! Call Christmas Anonymous!

There are some addictions that are hereditary. Daughter #1 and I have such an addiction and we got it from my mother. It's an addiction to Christmas and all its decor. The wrappings and trappings, the jingle and tinsel, the cookies and cocoa, but especially the ornaments.  Oh dear, the ornaments.

Occasionally we think we're cured, and that the 27 thirty-gallon tubs of Christmas tree decorations, centerpieces, swags, lights, and other decor stored in the garage are enough. And so we venture out confidently to North Pole City, "just to look."

ARGHK. We tried that this week. Alcoholics should not go to bars. Gambling addicts should stay out of casinos. We should not go to Christmas stores.

I just couldn't resist another bird for my Mother Nature Christmas tree. It's so feathery. He speaks of warm and cozy holidays to me.

And this little Nativity. Space is a premium commodity in our apartment, and the little family just fits on my desk.

And the cardinals. I have a soft spot for cardinals. The remind me of my grandmother; she loved cardinals, loved to see them decorating the trees both inside and outside her house. Hmmm, they look a little shocked. The owl just fell over again. Too many rumballs.

Mom found this backpack ornament for us, to commemorate the backpacking trips this year. I believe I squealed when I saw it.

Sighhhh. Back for more therapy. Repeat to myself: I do not need more ornaments, I do not need more ornaments...