Ohhhh, Tannenbaum
For the past nine years, I have gone into the forest to cut down a Christmas tree.
The first four went off with a hitch: go into the woods, cut and drive back to town and decorate; it’s the last five trips that have been disastrous (but in a good way).
Because the last five years, I’ve brought my wife and kids to the woods. The last four, we’ve joined another family for even more fun. Throw in wild cards like that, and there’s bound to be troubles (and I say this with much love).
This tradition has survived battling dogs, bickering siblings, a snowstorm, a hangover (not mine), one unfortunate pants-wetting episode (my best friend’s then-3-year-old, not me), a snowball fight that escalated into tears (again, not me), one lost saw, gloves that vanished, arguments over hats, a knee surgery and hobbled rehabilitation (and threats to take it easy), more tears, the inevitable, “I have to go pee,” when you’re a dozen miles past the nearest rest stop, some cursing (OK, a lot of cursing) and the annual vow never again to venture forth into the wilds of Lassen National Forest or the Shasta-Trinity National Forest for a $10 tree, when they sell perfectly good ones in parking and vacant lots all over town.
“Stop being such a Scrooge,” my wife gently scolded (this after trudging a total of 50 yards into the woods last year when my daughter declared that she was cold _ and tired). “If nothing went wrong, it wouldn’t be a tradition, there’d be no memories, it would be just a trip.”
This year, everything went pretty well. We got to the woods with no problems, no arguments _ and surprisingly, no bloodshed or tears. My buddy brought a flask filled with Christmas cheer (the expensive kind). We had pizza and beers (sodas for the kids) afterward. We spent about $90 on the excursion.
Then the damn thing died. I mean, this Douglas fir gave up its needles in two weeks.
“It that going make it until New Year’s Day?” my wife asked.
“I doubt it’ll last the weekend,” I said.
“But I really want a tree decorated when my family comes for our party.”
This is why we were at the tree lot last night, buying a white fir for 40 bucks.
Granted, it’s a beautiful tree. We took the decorations off the old one, vacuumed (like six times) and I drug this new white fir into the house.
Under the cover of darkness.
Yep, I spent nearly $150 on a Christmas tree (which has already been terrorized by our cats).
Ahhh, for the memories (I just keep telling myself).
The first four went off with a hitch: go into the woods, cut and drive back to town and decorate; it’s the last five trips that have been disastrous (but in a good way).
Because the last five years, I’ve brought my wife and kids to the woods. The last four, we’ve joined another family for even more fun. Throw in wild cards like that, and there’s bound to be troubles (and I say this with much love).
This tradition has survived battling dogs, bickering siblings, a snowstorm, a hangover (not mine), one unfortunate pants-wetting episode (my best friend’s then-3-year-old, not me), a snowball fight that escalated into tears (again, not me), one lost saw, gloves that vanished, arguments over hats, a knee surgery and hobbled rehabilitation (and threats to take it easy), more tears, the inevitable, “I have to go pee,” when you’re a dozen miles past the nearest rest stop, some cursing (OK, a lot of cursing) and the annual vow never again to venture forth into the wilds of Lassen National Forest or the Shasta-Trinity National Forest for a $10 tree, when they sell perfectly good ones in parking and vacant lots all over town.
“Stop being such a Scrooge,” my wife gently scolded (this after trudging a total of 50 yards into the woods last year when my daughter declared that she was cold _ and tired). “If nothing went wrong, it wouldn’t be a tradition, there’d be no memories, it would be just a trip.”
This year, everything went pretty well. We got to the woods with no problems, no arguments _ and surprisingly, no bloodshed or tears. My buddy brought a flask filled with Christmas cheer (the expensive kind). We had pizza and beers (sodas for the kids) afterward. We spent about $90 on the excursion.
Then the damn thing died. I mean, this Douglas fir gave up its needles in two weeks.
“It that going make it until New Year’s Day?” my wife asked.
“I doubt it’ll last the weekend,” I said.
“But I really want a tree decorated when my family comes for our party.”
This is why we were at the tree lot last night, buying a white fir for 40 bucks.
Granted, it’s a beautiful tree. We took the decorations off the old one, vacuumed (like six times) and I drug this new white fir into the house.
Under the cover of darkness.
Yep, I spent nearly $150 on a Christmas tree (which has already been terrorized by our cats).
Ahhh, for the memories (I just keep telling myself).
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