Christmas is Thursday. Can you believe that? Are you ready? Is the tree decorated to perfection? The presents bought and wrapped in such a way that no one wants to unwrap the gorgeous packages, or if they do they go so slowly in an effort to save the packaging just to get crumpled in the attic later? Is the grocery shopping done, and the meal preparations begun? If the above describes you in any way then I need an invitation to spend the day at your house! My house has no tree, and the only reason I have any sort of decoration up is because I just bought some new ones, and as I unpacked them to show my husband he strung them on the credenza and china cabinet. I also have no Christmas baking happening as I’m so not a cook, and therefore there will also be no lovely smells coming from the kitchen on Christmas morning. So you may ask what have I done since I’ve so obviously done nothing? I entertained my friend Yvonne from England. We scoured the bookstores, had some great meals, and went to see ICE at the Gaylord Texan. Now she’s gone, and…

Well, finally, the village is assembled! Is my shopping done? No. How about baking/cooking? Ah, no. Do I have any idea what I’m wearing to the holiday parties this weekend? Definitely not. But the village–the porcelain, hand-painted, Victorian-era, more-expensive-every-year, oversized project is up, so Christmas is officially here. Wendy’s Christmas Village I’m not one of those people who are constantly evaluating and redoing my house. I know those who strive to have every stick of furniture and accessory in place, whose homes are showplaces of decorating magnificence. They’re proud–and have every right to be–of their talents in coordination, cutting-edge style and color. Me? I move in, scatter stuff around and nod. That’ll work for a good decade. So Christmas is the only time I putter and angst over coordinating colors, greenery, ornaments, lights, hiding electrical cords and, ah yes, that crazy, precious village. Like all loyal children, I blame my mother. She started my collection when my husband and I were first married over seventeen years ago. When my kids were little, I let them hang whatever ornaments they wanted on the tree any which way. They shook packages with glee. But touch Mama’s village? That was a line nobody…