I grew up in an artificial tree household. Every year my dad would drag the box out of storage and assemble the tree, and we’d all learn a few new words we could try out at school as he tried to make it all fit together. Last year was the first year that I had a live Christmas tree. I have to say, there’s no comparison. You gotta go live. The whole ritual of going and picking out the perfect tree, kicks of the Christmas season. My clan went to Home Depot last night and got a 7 foot Douglas fir, strapped it to my car, and it is now awaiting decorations in my living room.
This, by the way, was a much better purchase than the one my fiancee made at Rite Aid earlier in the day. She bought this 3 foot tall stuffed bear in a soldier suit that sings “The Little Drummer Boy” every time someone passes it. It’s motion-sensitive. It’s very VERY motion sensitive. So I’d be sleeping (which I occasionally do) and every time one of the dogs would wander past it…COME THEY TOLD ME PA RUM PA PUM PUM…..I’d fall back asleep and 10 minutes later….A NEWBORN KING TO SEE PA RUM PA PUM PUM….I’d fall back asleep now dreaming of stuffed bear decapitation and 10 minutes later….OUR FINEST GIFTS TO BRING PA RUM PA PUM PUM….you get it. All night long. So I’m a bit blearly eyed today. I’m sure I’ll be cynical and motivated later and write the RN, but right now I’m trying to scrub that song out of my head.