There are a few things I believe one should discuss with their betrothed before walking down the aisle. These include the more obvious concepts such as:
1) Do you want children?
2) Where do you prefer to live?
3) How is your relationship with your parents?
4) What’s your sexual history?
I’d like to add one to the list.
5) What color are your Christmas lights?
You see, I grew up in a beautiful little town in Norman Rockwell-ian Vermont. If colored lights existed at all they hung in unseen locations but not, under any circumstances, on the fronts of the white clapboard houses with black shutters that circled the charming town green. The owner of our local general store took photos of the townspeople and hung our pictures on the trees he lovingly placed on the porch of his store. Tress that twinkled with…of course…little, white lights.
When Husband and I first moved to Marblehead together in 2001, into a very small apartment in Old Town, we had no kids and no plans to spend Christmas in our tiny new home. But, I wanted a tree and, cute boyfriend that he was, Husband went out to the local Boy Scouts stand while I was at a work event and he picked out an adorable little Charlie Brown tree, bought some lights and ornaments and decorated it on his own.
It was a wonderful gesture and I will never forget how loved and happy it made me feel to walk in and see what he had done for me. I loved it. And, I may have cried. I may have even known then and there, for the first time, that he was my future husband.
But, the lights weren’t white. They were colored. And (*gasp*) BIG.
Of course, I’d seen his family’s trees before and he mine. But, in the light of your own living room, it’s just…different.
I wanted my little white lights. He wanted his big colored bulbs.
So, in the interest of marital accord, we compromised the next and all Christmas seasons since. Our tree is annually decorated with small colored lights. And, it’s lovely.
But as far as outdoor decoration, I insist on white lights out front, showing my deep-seeded snobbery. (What would the neighbors think?) And in the back, Husband strings giant colored bulbs along the back deck, which the kids love.
And you know what makes me laugh about it all? It came to me the other night. Our house, in the magical Christmas time of year, transforms into the home decor equivalent of a mullet.
Nice.
Confessions of a Serial Swooper 