It’s that time of year! That’s right; it’s time to turn on the holiday music, assemble the Christmas tree, and haul this sucker out of the basement where it has slept dreaming for the last year:

It's even clearly labelled and everything.

What treasures await us inside the box? I think you know.

Yes, Virginia, that is a Sy Snootles and the Max Rebo Band ornament. Jealous?

No Christmas is complete without a Christmas tree completely buried in Star Wars ornaments. This year’s decoration went reasonably well, although our three-year-old did request that the Darth Vader ornament be moved to the back of the tree because it was scaring her. (The stormtrooper ornament was banished as well.)

In retrospect, I definitely missed an opportunity to lecture her about one of life’s hard realities: fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering. And that, in turn, leads to you eventually getting tossed down into the Death Star’s power core by your apprentice.

Oh well. Life will teach her that lesson soon enough without my help. Also, Merry Christmas.

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