We are doing a little Christmas here and a little Christmas there. It’s like a 12 days of Christmas, only for tired people.
We got our tree on Saturday. It’s a real tree people. . .it’s a Yankee tree. . .and it’s drinking water and it’s in my living room shedding. My husband is a tree purist. Please do not comment on the hazardous and needle-dropping nature of live trees. . .or of their slow, cumbersome demise in land fills. We turn it off at night, keep it watered, and will put it in our pine thicket (with its southern cousins) so the woodland creatures may use it for a habitation.
I convinced him last year to get a cheap pre-lit tree because a) we were about to move, b) we didn’t have time to get a real tree, c) no shedding. It was so incredibly offensive to him that he had TOTALLY blocked it from his memory. . .kind of like I’ve blocked from my memory where the last (and most important box) of Christmas ornaments could be. The tree languishes on the tippy-top shelf in the laundry room in a box.
Anyway. Our tree is going up in stages. At this rate, we may have it done by the day after Christmas. Saturday, we bought it and brought it home. Sunday we made a fresh cut and put it into a stand. Monday Tony strung the lights. Tuesday the kids put up the decorations I can find. Wednesday I tried to forget that I cannot find the last (and did I mention most important box) of ornaments. . .the ones I have given the children every year of their lives. They are somewhere. If you’ve seen them, please let me know.
I have also made some Chex Mix for Tony’s co-workers and it has been delivered in these lovely, red bags.