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There’s a pot holder, folded over, at the top, sewn to a holiday dish towel, and a button/hook so you can hang them on a fridge or oven door (which is where mine are!). Aren’t they clever?

The trimming of the tree!!! A couple pizzas, a pan of brownies, and some gingerbread decorating later, the teenagers set to work. Ross was the man on the ladder, getting ornaments up to the tippy top.

His girlfriend was here for the party, adding to the hormonal throng. I love the girlfriend. I’d adopt her, but I think her parents like her, too.

Here’s the girlfriend’s gingerbread handiwork. Everybody had to decorate several of their own to add to the tree. I was amazed at how enthusiastic they were about a seemingly childlike task. Sometimes teenagers are as much fun as kindergartners.

But wait–
What are you doing, you scurvy dog?!

That’s better.

Miss Princess found my mom’s old holiday apron in the ornament box. She put it on and hasn’t taken it off since.

All of the ornaments and balls are either home-baked, made by a child, vintage, or handmade (including the angel at the top of the tree, which is part of a set of embroidered felt ornaments I made when I was 20).







The only new ornaments on the tree are these beautiful balls sent to me by blog reader Jane. Aren’t they pretty? (See the pretty handmade holiday dish towels she also sent to me in today’s Daily Farm Photo.)

And THEN THE TREE FELL OVER.
So we decorated it twice.
I’d have photographic documentation of this event, but it was too traumatic.
Then Buttercup and I took a couple Xanax and curled up under the tree.

I’m just kidding. I don’t have any Xanax. Why don’t I have any Xanax?
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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