Perplexed, he peers into our dining room from his perch on the deck, a red Christmas ornament dangling from his ear.
Rudy the Reindeer rarely sees this far into January.
That’s because I’m a by-the-book kind of holiday decorator.
In my home, Christmas music, movies, and décor are forbidden until the day after Thanksgiving. That’s when the autumn wreaths go down, and the Christmas greens go up. Our everyday boring, white stoneware dishes are packed away, and my fleet of Pfaltzgraff Winterberry is deployed.
All the artwork on my living room walls is replaced by Santas, skis and holiday prints. I pack away the garland of harvest leaves from
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