I am not a big fan of heights. In fact, heights and I have never been what you might call friends, or even mere acquaintances. Richard can attest to this, considering that the drive up to the ranch takes those horrid twisty mountain roads that have a sheer cliff going up on one side, and another one going down on the other side. These are the type that we drive with me clenching the armrest on the car door with white knuckles, begging him to slow down and let the snails on the road pass us, and saying Unkind Things about the lack of sturdier guardrails on every curve of the road.

So, bearing this in mind, I was not exactly excited about the prospect of joining my husband on the roof to put up Christmas lights. Now that we've got this gorgeous house, all those slopes and bay windows and pitched roofs just cry out for lights. And clever me, I insisted that this was the job of the husband. My job was to bake - his was to climb around on ladders.

It was a good plan, really it was. It just didn't work out quite as anticipated, as was obvious this morning when I sat on the roof outside our bedroom window, snapping little plastic hooks onto every other stupid little light on a string that suddenly seemed miles long, reminding myself over and over not to look down.

The problem, you see, is that putting up Christmas lights is really not a one-person job. EvilPheemy came over yesterday to help, but they didn't get very far before it got too dark and his wife and I came and shooed them back inside. So unless we can wheedle someone else out to help him, I'm going to have to be the one to do it.

We've got a few strands of lights up so far. We're going to tackle the garage next - something I'm actually a bit relieved about because that only requires standing on a low ladder and I won't have to ever look down to help. We'd love to get lights on the second story gutters, but I'm not sure that's going to happen this year. I'm convincing myself that this will be a long term project - that perhaps we'll add a string or two every year...or at least whenever we get someone else over here who doesn't mind flitting around on the roof or rickety ladders to help.