There's few places as beautiful as Middle Tennessee in the fall. And one only needs to visit Facebook or Twitter to take in all the beauty. Changing leaves, crisp air, family photos in all orange or red surrounded by a bevy of changing leaves posted all over social media, and general giddiness of the season make even this girl excited about football...for the social atmosphere, not the game.
This is also the time of year my normal "stay away from anything crafty" persona transforms into a glue-
gun-wielding, poor man's Martha Stewart (Note: this will be the only time the adjective "normal" will be used to describe yours truly). Before realizing how under-qualified I am to take on big projects, I've started the process of distressing every piece of furniture I own, every room in the house smells of pumpkin spice candles and all the decorating dilemmas in the world can be solved by simply adding a touch of burlap or a monogrammed initial.
I start to lose steam around mid-October.
My husband is irritated that all of our furniture is covered with burlap. That's the only way I can think of to hide the fact that our tables look (not in a good way) distressed.
My boys are revolting against the matching sweaters I ordered for a family portrait. It was the large embroidered initials on the front that sent them over the edge.
I prepare the white flag after Halloween.
In November, I give away four bolts of burlap, send back the monogrammed sweaters and throw away everything that even remotely smells like pumpkins.
By the time December rolls around, I'm a basket case.
I can't keep up. I AM NOT MARTHA STEWART! I am, however, consistent with my signature holiday homemaking rituals.
The lights on my pre-lit tree NEVER work as a team.
My homemade cookies for teachers and friends are actually made by toll house and can be found in the dairy case of any grocery store.
Three unused gingerbread houses dated 2007 remain in the deep freeze waiting for the day I arrange a craft party with my oldest and his friends.
There's a bag of clearance Christmas décor and gifts that I always forget about and find in January.
The truth is, I'll never be Martha. But I don't hate her. She didn't force me to charge a Mauviel copper pot.
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