His Name Is Hans

Sorry, Erin, no pictures on my garden this time, but to make up for it, I've got pictures of my new baby.
Hans.
We picked up Hans on Saturday. He was a bit uptight. Who could blame him? The poor guy's been uprooted from his home in a tragic circumstance, taken from all who love him and whom he loves, and brought down to Texas. (I feel your pain, buddy.) We took him home, let him relax in a warm place with a glass of brandy (actually, it was a glass of sugar water).
Sunday, he let his hair down, and we gave him new clothes. He's right at home now, happy and shining.
Meet Hans.









And for a little more Christmas cheer, here are a few other pics of my living room:

Yes, I have three trees in my living room. Yes, that one is completely red (with red lights). And, yes, I also have a tree in my bedroom. That tree has a legacy, though. You see, once upon a time, when my parents married, my mother's parents' neighbor, Rose, gave her old tree to my parents. Sometime in college, my parents passed it on to me. I call her Rose in honor of her original owner. Rose (the tree, not the neighbor) is three and a half? four? feet tall with white lights wrapped around each branch (of which there aren't many).
Oh, and yes, that's my computer on the chair next to the fireplace. With all these trees, why lock myself up in the office to work? Almost everything in my living room is packed away in a closet to make room for the Christmas paraphernalia. Gotta love it. I like to think of it as the snowmen--excuse me, snowpeople--ward of the insane asylum.
Throughout the month, I'll share some fun Christmas tidbits with you.