Rules of Capitalization: Happy Holidays: Throwin' 'Bows and Crackin' Nuts

Even though the malls have been swathed in candy canes and jingle bells since the day after Halloween, everyone knows that the "holiday season" doesn't officially start until Thanksgiving...and really technically the day after Thanksgiving.

Do not ever attempt to mix Halloween and Christmas. Unless you happen to be Tim Burton. Which you're not. Unless you are...Tim, if you read my blog, be a pal and pass me Johnny Depp's contact info.

I opted to forgo the annual family Thanksgiving gathering in Alabama. You know, too far, too expensive, not enough time, yada yada yada. There is typically a pretty good spread. Some of my favorites are cheese grits and sweet potato casserole. My mother always brings the ambrosia...which is essentially just mandarin oranges and coconut. I don't really know why it's called ambrosia, since this stuff pretty much sucks, and supposedly ambrosia is Greek for food of the gods or something. Whoever claimed the name "ambrosia" for this crap was blowing it more than a little out of proportion.

Evidently there were t-shirts at Thanksgiving this year. One can only hope that's a new annual tradition. After dinner, I'm sure everyone grabbed their shotguns and went out back to kill stuff and play on the tractor. Seriously.

Last year

I enjoyed a DiGiorno pizza on Thanksgiving. Actually I didn't really enjoy it that much, because I burned the crap out of it. Good thing I had a bag of Butterfinger bells to save the meal.

I wasn't going to hit the stores on Black Friday. In fact, I was considering a day of serious soul-searching. But after stumbling upon a Target ad for a door-buster (read: 4 a.m.) deal on a $12 air mattress cha-CHING, I decided I pretty much had no choice. Soul-searching will have to wait.

I made the two-mile drive from my apartment and found the Target parking lot...packed. At 4:17 in the morning. After a few minutes of mental preparation while playing, Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger," I made my way to the entrance, ready to throw some 'bows if necessary. I floated stealthily between bleary-eyed shoppers carrying TVs and made a beeline toward the camping supply area to locate my loot. Wah-waaahhhh. What a piece of shit. I couldn't believe I dragged my ass out into the 25-degree morning - coffeeless - for this. Well, I figured since I was already up, I might as well get into the fucking holiday spirit and check out the decorations, damn it.

A few minutes later, I emerged with a $20 plastic Canadian fir tree, and all four limbs.

Coffeeeee...

Let me just say that I can be a bit of a Scrooge at times. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but I was really in the holiday spirit when I got home. If I had any eggnog, I would have been chugging it. If I owned a Santa sweater to wear over my candy cane turtleneck, I would have put it on. If I had Mariah Carey's Christmas album...all right, you got me, I own pretty much every album Mariah Carey ever released, but that's all in the past. It was a dark time in my life.

Anyway, I decked the halls.

Every time I added an ornament, I had to adjust the tree so it wouldn't fall to that side.

I figured while I was at it, I would bust out my one and only collection. My mother started collections for all three girls when we were pretty young.