Guess how long this year????

Today is decorate the tree day at our house. I know,  I know it isn’t December 15th, the traditional day my family goes hunting in sub-frigid temperatures, trooping through 20 feet of snow to find just the right one. It seems December 15 always manages to be the coldest day of the year, and the snowiest and the blowiest.

I always open the van door and say “Look at that one!” and I point to some tree not to far off the beaten path. As I am stepping out into the frosty air, Dear man says, “Yeah it looks okay. But it has some holes in it. I don’t think you really want that one. Let’s look around and if we can’t find another one we like better we’ll come back and get this one.”

Silly us. We follow his sage advice. And never ever find the tree again. Oh we find the van just fine, but not the perfect tree and of course we don’t find another one we like better. So we end up settling for any tree just so we can get out of there. Our fingers are frozen and our toes have long ago lost all feeling. Our nose might be dripping but we have also lost all feeling in our face.

Dear man does the chopping because he’s the man and I’d be dangerous with a saw.  He starts digging in the back of the van, tossing soccer balls, football cleats, prima donna dresses, tire irons, spare tires, last months lunch, then his head reappears, “Uhhh have you seen my coveralls?”

“Why yes as a matter of fact I have.”
“Good! Where are they.”
“At home on the hook where they belong.”

Not a good thing! Not when you’re wearing blue jeans and have to get down on the ground to chop down a Christmas tree and there is 30 feet of snow on the ground. After much grunting and groaning, I manage to get back into the van just as Dear Man finishes chopping down our tree.

Off we go in search of warmth and food. We used to covertly go across enemy state lines for our tree and we always ate a wonderful restaurant there. However then we heard they changed hands and were not as good.

Lies! All. Lies! I ate there on my birthday and their food is to die for. To. Die. For. But since the tree farm was sold and turned into a feedlot, we don’t go that way anymore.

Last year we had quite the time getting our tree. Narrowly escaping with our lives. Whew. You can read about that one here.

This year though, I’m not sure how we managed it but we did. We managed to get our tree, pop it in the stand, and decorate it all without leaving the house. We went no further than the basement store room to the large box on the floor.

It is so much easier but not near as much fun, nor does it offer the endless possibilities for blog fodder. But it is up and decorated and looking lovely!



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