Jingle Bell Box Fan uncommon ambience

    • Arts

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My wife jingled all the way home from Michaels with a sleigh bell strap — now hanging from the pantry door. That is where I keep all my holiday treats locked away from the little monsters — creating a festive alarm that alerts me when they start digging around in the pantry.

"Get the hell away from my Christmas Crunch!"

Ehem — it struck me while bingeing a bowl of mouth-shredding holiday shapes — what if I added some bells to the big damn box fan and gave fan fans a great holiday season of festive white noise?

Ever since my father's passing, Christmas has been my holiday 1-seed. It used to be Thanksgiving when my father would put out a million sides that included everything from tiny onions floating in cream and baked sweet potatoes mashed with maple and roofed with marshmallows.

And dad knew how to cook a bird. Unlike my mother, who learned to cook meat from her parents and treated turkey like the Griswolds — everything so dry you would need to chase a bite with milk. Look I can't cook, and even a dry turkey is better than no turkey so take my complaints with a grain of Mrs. Dash.

Christmas is my #1 now.

I get to sneak around the house like a wrapping ninja, building bikes incorrectly while drinking eggnog and watching Die Hard like the rest of the gaudy assholes that "look at me, I'm watching a Christmas Movie" on social media.

And maybe it's the many holidays that cluster this galaxy of important holidays or the Bing Crosby — but folks seem to get a bit more decent to each other for just a moment. Perhaps it's a seasonal placebo?

Whatever the case, and whatever you celebrate (or don't), I hope this holiday season is wonderful for you and yours.

And forgive me if I cut you off in the cereal aisle to score that last remaining box of Christmas Crunch).

My wife jingled all the way home from Michaels with a sleigh bell strap — now hanging from the pantry door. That is where I keep all my holiday treats locked away from the little monsters — creating a festive alarm that alerts me when they start digging around in the pantry.

"Get the hell away from my Christmas Crunch!"

Ehem — it struck me while bingeing a bowl of mouth-shredding holiday shapes — what if I added some bells to the big damn box fan and gave fan fans a great holiday season of festive white noise?

Ever since my father's passing, Christmas has been my holiday 1-seed. It used to be Thanksgiving when my father would put out a million sides that included everything from tiny onions floating in cream and baked sweet potatoes mashed with maple and roofed with marshmallows.

And dad knew how to cook a bird. Unlike my mother, who learned to cook meat from her parents and treated turkey like the Griswolds — everything so dry you would need to chase a bite with milk. Look I can't cook, and even a dry turkey is better than no turkey so take my complaints with a grain of Mrs. Dash.

Christmas is my #1 now.

I get to sneak around the house like a wrapping ninja, building bikes incorrectly while drinking eggnog and watching Die Hard like the rest of the gaudy assholes that "look at me, I'm watching a Christmas Movie" on social media.

And maybe it's the many holidays that cluster this galaxy of important holidays or the Bing Crosby — but folks seem to get a bit more decent to each other for just a moment. Perhaps it's a seasonal placebo?

Whatever the case, and whatever you celebrate (or don't), I hope this holiday season is wonderful for you and yours.

And forgive me if I cut you off in the cereal aisle to score that last remaining box of Christmas Crunch).

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