Our outside Christmas lights were up in all their magnificent glory. Each year, the children say the lights frame the house in such a way that it looks like the face of an angry old man. The strands of lights on the two upstairs dormers look like eyebrows and they tilt down toward each other. After the huge gusting storm the other night, I plugged the lights in before dark so they would be on when we drove home after my son's high school basketball game. Game over, son won, although this crazy mom-- me -- wanted to give the ref a piece of her mind, but of course controled herself. Crazy ladies may be crazy, but we can maintain our dignity. Back to driving home. We stopped as soon as we turned into our street-- SHOCKED! The angry old man was now a drunk old man. The powerful wind had had whipped the lights around so they drooped here and there. It looked so hilarious! We haven't turned them back on since. Hate to advertise how crazy we really are. My husband and sons will climb on the roof this Saturday and fix them. We decided an angry old man trumps a drunk old man any day. Merry Christmas!