My husband decided to trim the porches with lights yesterday. It involved loud swearing, wire clippers, duct tape, a metal ladder, barking dogs, and cold hands. At dinner I did not say that the string of lights on the garage is a few feet short, and perhaps could be centered better, since he did such a good job on the porches, and he cut a nice tree while I was at a library board meeting, too. He did say at dinner, that we should have measured the length of light strings and then built the house to fit them. Anyway, here’s a Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas Postcard:
