For as long as I’ve known my husband, he has a Scroogementality when it comes to Christmas . . . not the penny pinching but the wholebah humbugginess.
In fact, the other day while I was getting things ready for Christmas . . . playing Christmas music,baking Christmas cookies, wrapping Christmas presents and putting up theChristmas tree he personified Sir Ebenezer superlatively. I’m not sure what his problem is. I do most of the holiday preparations all hehas to do is buy me awesome presents. SoI asked him to put the lights on the tree . . . that IS the man’s job . . . andhe promptly announced that Christmas was cancelled.
HA . . . who does he think he is? Like he has the authority to cancelChristmas . . . as if!! He’s not Santa!
Despite all his pre-holiday grumpiness, he really is quite asweetie . . . just like the other humbug . . . as opposed to the contemptuousexclamation made by ol’ Scroogey himself.
I grew up having humbugs at Christmas time . . . although Inever knew that’s what they were called. I just thought they were Christmas candies. Humbugs are striped candies, usually peppermintthat have a hard outside and a soft toffee middle.
My mom used to put them out in littledishes. By the time the holidays wereover, if there were any of those candies left (and there usually were), theyended up being all stuck together in a sugary cluster.