back to home page
the news of iowa park
features from around iowa park
weddings, anniversaries and more
local obituaries
columns and letters
sports from local athletes
award-winning photos
let us know
ipleader advertising resources
businesses around iowa park
iowa park churches
area groups
get your message to the people
the iowa park area
the town of friendly living
the best of schools
links of interest
iowa park's paper since 1969
the leader staff
give us a shout

 

 

 

 



If men are from mars,
women are from the North Pole

10/13/11


Christmas is – according to both my Happy Bunny desk calendar and my internal clock – roughly 10 weeks and three days away.

I realized we were getting close to the most fun and exciting time of the year back in July when I begged and shamed Bobby into going into a Christmas specialty shop in Sedona during our honeymoon.

We left the shop with a couple of Christmas ornaments as thank you gifts, because what better way is there to say “thank you”, than with “Merry Christmas?”

That’s what I say, anyway.

I also managed to slip in a Kokopelli ornament and a rhinoceros ornament for our own tree. Rhinos make Bobby happy, which I am hoping will parlay into Christmas making him happy.

Don’t hold your breath just yet, there’s still work to do.

Little did he know that was just phase one of my diabolical plan to get him on my team at Christmas.

And by my team, I mean agreeing to decorate for Christmas while the Thanksgiving turkey is still on the table.

Phase two happened a few weeks ago when we discussed what size tree we will buy this year.

We have reached an impasse with him voting for the “less is more” two-foot, barren Charlie Brown Christmas tree; and me, on a Grand Fir large enough for someone to safely parachute into and hide. . . preferably Santa.

Those negotiations will continue, and I will win.

Phase three goes hand-in-hand with my fantasy of decorating the house for Christmas Thanksgiving night.

When I have asked him in the past if he has a problem with me decorating that early, he can never hear the last part of the question because the sound of him rolling his eyes is way too loud.

This year I have a plan, or at least a better one.

Bobby is a big college football fan, and I’ve notice that every bowl game is sponsored by some company. This year I’m going to pitch to him that we rename the months of November and December something like the “Collins Insurance Companies Christmas Bowl,” in hopes he will at least fake some type of interest in my Christmas shenanigans.

Sometime by Halloween, I will design my new bowl logo, and with the help of a bottle of Shiraz, a flip chart and meaningless powerpoint presentations, bore him into submission.

I even bought Santa hats with the Texas Tech and Texas A&M logos on them in case my presentation goes south.

It’s a good plan, or at least it’s the best plan I’ve got.

I love all things Christmas – with the absolute exception of fruitcake, coconut balls and mechanical Santas that scare the crap out of me at Wal-Mart – and shouldn’t be surprised that a sound 91 percent of the men I know could live happy,
full and productive lives without celebrating Christmas for a full month.

Or even a full week.