O, Christmas Tree

My family used to do this... minus the snow, naturally.

On Thanksgiving weekend, we'd go out, stomp around, argue the benefits of each of our coniferous choices, finally decide on one, and watch as Dad (or in later years the trusty farm hand) would lay on his side and awkwardly saw down our beautiful and perfect tree... perfect except for that one bare spot that would have to be turned to the wall. Then we'd hop on the trailer with our prize and bounce back to the house or barn or whatever. They'd shake out all the dead needles, bag it up in one of those nets, and we'd throw it in the back of the truck or Suburban and head home again home again.

I loved it. You absolutely can't beat the smell of a live tree. It cannot be accurately replicated in candle or spray. Do I have a live tree in my house? Um, no. You must be out of your mind. I pull it out of the box, stand it up, and plug that brother in.

We've had our tree for four Christmases now, which I guess is why this year 3/4 of the lights have gone out. I'm choosing to be okay with it, and so we have the most beautiful white trash tree on the block... Very "Merry Christmas from the Family" a la Robert Earl Keen.

P.S. I looked up the You Tube video for "Merry Christmas from the Family," and it is pretty hilarious, but I hesitate to put the link here for fear of offending some. Saturday night, Carter did indeed make homemade eggnog and turn the ball game on.