Riding through the country on our way back from Columbia Saturday night, we came upon a house heavily lit with holiday lights in a fairly random way. I commented to my DH, "Well that's festive." "I really miss seeing decorations like that," my DH responded. "I can remember when there were lots of houses in the country decorated with bright lights." "To me, that has always been part of the holidays. I hope it is not disappearing like so many other traditions."
"You know, looking at that house makes me want colored lights on our tree. I think next year we should change back to colored lights." Nooooooooooo! Not that argument. I thought we were past that. "Is that really practical since we just bought new LED white lights for the tree?" I said, trying not to sound desperate. "Maybe they (Sams) will take them back." "I don't think so."
As much as I hate to admit it, the idea of colored lights is not as offensive to me as it once was. The reality of my mortality brings on a certain nostalgic longing for things of my youth. The memories of the trees in our den, as I grew up, with red, green, yellow, and blue lights seem much warmer (literally) and welcoming than the more sterile looking tree we have today with all white lights. Now, I'm not ready to revert to thumb sized lights that, alone will heat the den and threaten to torch the tree at anytime.
There are two issues here: (1) I am going to have eat crow, given I have fought tooth and nail to ensure that our tree had white lights and (2) my DH, decided two years we ago that we needed to make a serious investment in new lights for the tree. And, given my protest against the multi-colored lights was much louder than my argument that we did not need to replace the twelve strands of lights simply because new ones were available, I need some strategic planning here.
What says I love you more than twelve strands of colored lights for Christmas? He cannot say he has not asked for them . . . and they are easy to wrap. Done and done.