On Saturday, I went up to Snowstorm University with my parents and Blonde Niece to hear the Mandarins, a female a capella group that includes Drama Niece, my brother’s very talented daughter. For the last six years, we’ve driven to Camera City to see Drama Niece perform in high school musicals, so it’s nice that she’s going to college here in town, which makes it very easy to go to her events. It was a gorgeous fall day, perfect for strolling across campus, and the singing was pretty amazing.
On the way home, we drove through Traintrack Village to drop Blonde Niece home, and she pointed out the Holiday Vomit House. It was a small grey home, whose yard was filled with as many cheap plastic Christmas decorations as they could pile onto the grass. Clearly, they were going on the theory that quantity trumped quality. Despite my aversion to all things plastic, I sort of admired the occupants of the house — I mean decorating your house like that takes a certain kind of courage.
“It looks like Christmas puked,” Blonde Niece said. I was so stunned by the house that I parked the car at the curb and got out to take a photo.
“Get the Santa in the window,” said my mother. “It’s creepy.”
Blonde Niece laughed as I took the picture. “I guess this is going on the blog.”
