A Little Christmas In November

Last night I was feeling up for a blog task, but I had a floor program in my dorm.  I could have skipped out, but this is the first house I've lived in on campus where the girls act as a cohesive group.  There's sharing, sweetness, and plenty of sassy-ness.  Just to give you an idea of what it's like here, the night I went to do graffiti, I was in the kitchen with my partners in crime discussing in very vague terms what was going to go down.  Two of the girls, who I barely knew at the time, walked in.  One of them cut in,"Green paint shows up best, just so you know," and I was flabbergasted.  I love these girls.

I'm going to be moving out soon into a box new apartment, which is kind of ironic considering how much I've grown to like it here.  So I took our holiday decorating party last night as a chance to show the girls a little love and bake them some Vegan Butter Balls, alias: Russian Tea Cakes, alias: Mexican Wedding Cookies, alias: Snowballs.  I baked about three dozen, thinking I would have enough left over for the next task I've been thinking about (you'll see).  The three dozen cookies were gone in about 45 minutes, and the decorating commenced.

Without realizing it, our decorating got a little mischievous. 

I remember going to my aunt's house Christmas Eve and going to the bathroom; there was a santa shower curtain, santa fuzzy toilet seat cover, santa rug, santa (santa-scented?) candle, santa soap dispenser, and santa hand towels.  So cheesy, but as every vegan will admit, cheese tastes so good.  This is in memory of that.  I call it, "Jingle Towels".

G, and M (he may as well be another girl in the house), made a mountain range out of tree trimming beads.  M delicately crafted some tiny mountain inhabitants, and he saw that it was good.  These hill-billies included Vishnu, Skiers, The Abominable Snowman, Jack Skellington.  Every world must have its good and its evil, so there were also sufferers of various climbing disasters, like avalanches, and abyss-falling.  I hate when that happens. 




Back to the bathroom,  I was thinking about the lyrics to "Santa Claus is Coming to Town", when, just like Martin Luther, the monk who founded the Protestant Reformation, I had a tower experience (read the third paragraph, there is poop involved).  Click to enlarge it, then zoom, and see what his hat says on the white trim.