Good Bye, Christmas Ribbons, your days are numbered. This weekend, you'll come down, along with all the other Christmas decor. The others will be packed away. But you. . . well. . . most likely the trash.
But you did your job well, after Elizabeth carefully hung you from the chandelier. You saved lots of tall people from bonking their heads, as they reached for the meatballs or phyllo and goat cheese pockets, during our Christmas party.
Such a sad ending for festive little ringlets . . .
I could let Ruby play with you for awhile, but it would just be all drool and slobber, and then wrestling you from her before she swallowed it. . . so I guess it's just the trash for you. sorry.