Well, I managed to get the Christmas lights up outside on the weekend. And contrary to familiy tradition, it was actually not a bad day for weather.

True to tradition, of course, it was only when I had my ladder put away that we spotted the one solitary burned out bulb. And yes, it was the one at the very tippy top of the peak of the roof.

Upon close inspection, once I had climbed up there, I then broke the bulb in the socket, leaving only some small shards of glass attached to the base of former bulb.

Meaning that to get the thing cleared so I could put in a new bulb, I would have to use my needle nose pliers for extracting the base.

Meaning the power would have to be off.

Meaning I would have to do the job in the dark.

At the tippy top of the peak of the roof.

So there I am, in the dark and the cold, with trusty pliers and a pretty good idea of where I needed to find the broken bulb casing. But after several tries and failures, I gave in and asked my son to get a flashlight to shine up on my work so I could see.

I wait.

Light shines.

And I hear, "you're bleeding." Sure enough, I had sliced my thumb pretty good somehow, and was dripping blood down my sleeve and onto the ground.

But there was work to be done! And, being the hero that I am, a small cut wasn't going to ruin the day.

It didn't. But it sure hasn't made the two days since very pleasant. Those tiny shards of Christmas bulb glass can really do a number on you. And it hurts!

I can imagine roving gangs of thugs with pockets full of the stuff. And the news story of the bust where the cops are proudly standing next to their new cache of gang weaponry - Christmas bulb glass.

Hmmm. Getting a little carried away there.

Ah well. It's a memory. The first one with just the three of us. I wouldn't call it an heirloom, exactly. But the song came to mind, and in the spirit of keeping the real meaning of Christmas front and center, I offer it to you here.

I hope you enjoy it.