The Christmas Party and other traditions...

This time of year brings things like Christmas concerts, school plays, cookie exchanges, shopping line ups, and card writing to those relatives you don't talk to the rest of the year. But among all our traditions there is one that I look forward to each and every year: The annual Christmas party.Carpenter's Boss- Dude, reserved a banquet room, ordered a beautiful spread of food for 50 plus spouses, gave out gifts, and provided a live band for our entertainment. A wonderful gesture when you consider at the end of the day, all a boss ever owes his employees, is a paycheck.
I ditched my comfortable jeans for a little black party dress, and traded my clunky hiking boots for sleek "sex-on-a-stick" red shoes. For the first time in ages it seemed, I spent a lengthy time curling my hair, and applying make- up. All for one evening where I could feel and look like a Diva, instead of a housewife. After all it was a party.
When we arrived, Carpenter's crew and few other men were dressed in dress- pants and nice dress shirts, the rest, well, let's just say that for some, their clothes were questionably clean. I felt over dressed when I saw some of the other women. I was one of three who actually wore a dress. The rest came in pants, some in their jeans, and some it seemed could care less what they looked like. Carpenter loved the way I looked even though he didn't like my shoes. He said they reminded him of the cabinets he wanted to buy for our kitchen. Huh?
Since it is not very often we are dressed to the nine's and out at a party, I asked D.R. ( a crew member) sitting across form us to take a picture of Carpenter and I, and handed him the camera. Big mistake. This is the picture he took:


Now, I suppose my ego should swell, with the knowledge that a 21-year-old handsome boy found my bosom not only oogle worthy but photo worthy. I mean seriously ladies, how often do we catch some yummy young man staring at our chests, and then have irrefutable proof that they did? Unfortunately, that little thing called reality, kicked in, and reminded me that this bloke was just joking around in a way only young men do, with a large amount of courage juice in their system. It was not about my bosom, but rather an attempt to make my husband laugh- which he did.
By the end of Saturday night, I was tired, and realized that such parties, were only jean worthy. Suddenly, I wished I had spent the night curled up with a glass of wine and a chick flick. I decided not to be disappointed, after all, what was I expecting? It was a beautiful gesture, on the part of Dude and his company, that was all that mattered. But I was looking forward to Sunday.

Sunday, Carpenter put up the Christmas lights around the house, while the girls and I made cookies and decorated them. They were snowman cookies, we make them every year, and the girls love them. It has become a family tradition, among the Christmas concerts, card writing, and the decorating of our home. And this year, Carpenter hung the stockings on the mantel with care:Merry Red-Neck Christmas !