It's not as though I don't have Christmas cheer, as the previous post may have seemed to imply. I have scads of it, as evidenced by the Christmas dioramas in the accompanying photos. One is inside, and features some kind of dwarf fir, I think (I made notes at the time - and thank you Flower World - but I don't remember where I put them), and the trio outside may be firs, as well, but, again, I no longer recall.
At any rate, two of the boxes outside are green and one is red. That equals Christmas, as does the shape of the trees, and the fact that they are some kind of conifer. Inside, as you can clearly see, there is red, green, and gold in the diorama next to the planter, in the form of vintage, modern, and Saudi perfume bottles. What is less obvious is the exuberant holiday cheer stuck into the planter itself, consisting of a sparkly apple, two sparkly little balls, a tiny drum, and simulated, sparkly conifer and ivy branches.
Moreover, my bedroom itself is red, red, red and gold. My living room is green and red and gold. Or at least celadon and sage and raspberry and gold. So I am living Christmas all the time. I even have Balthazar in Spanish, yet none of the rest of the (less-Christmassy-titled) Quartet in any language right now. Add in the photo of St. Joseph with the infant Jesus, and it's almost oppressively Yule in here. All I need is a karaoke machine and some nutmeg, and the opportunity to catch the neighbor's cat unaware and stick some stuffed reindeer antlers on him, and then no one, no one, will again question my holiday cheer.
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