Not my mother's daughter.


It's true, I'm turning into my mother.  Ask my husband, he'll tell you.  The way I answer Huuuuh? absentmindedly when he calls for me.  How I love to spend entire afternoons "gallavanting" in thrift stores.  The shape of my knees.

There is one way though, in which we differ.  My mother will dress her home in full Christmas regalia right after Halloween and up until Chinese New Year, Valentine's Day be damned.

But not me.  Come January 2 and this is all that's left of our tree.  And while I do love the holidays, I'm breathing a happy sigh.