We bought a Christmas tree!

Undoubtedly the biggest bonus of owning a new home is finally having space to put up your very own Christmas tree. Some of my fondest memories of childhood are from Christmas tree hunts that we'd take as a family. I distinctly remember that special year when mom drove us up the snow and we hiked through the cold to cut our very own tree.

Kids: Are we there yet?
Mom: Isn't this fun?
Kids: This sucks.
Mom: We've got our very own ax.
Kids: Is this a death hike? Do these trails actually lead anywhere?
Mom: I don't know why I even bothered having kids.
Kids: What?
Mom: I said I love you.
Kids: This sucks.

Ah, Christmas trees. Other highlights include the year that my sister went dumpster diving to get our Christmas cheer as well as the numerous battles we had with the Christmas tree stand.

P: Is it straight?
P2: No. Take that one side out a little.
P: Begins to turn extremely hard piece of metal into hand causing mild to sever pain in the hands.
P: Is it good now?
P2: Close, but I actually think you may need to tighten it a bit more.
P: Mumbles under breath about the need for any damn tree at all while building calluses as they turn the metal piece.
P: Is it straight now?
P2: I think so. Try letting go.

P: Steps away and admires the tree for a moment. A feeling of accomplishment is felt throughout the room. The tree then topples over onto the ground.
P: That's it. F this, Christmas is cancelled this year.

Then when you finally battle the tree into a nice position mom takes one of your blankets and wraps it around the tree. Which fine, no problem. Except that the cats see a tree and a blanket and think of it as their personal toilet and by Christmas morning your new G.I. Joe's smell rather strongly of cat urine. (Obviously not a personal experience).

So it was with all of these positive memories of trees past that after running errands for roughly five hours or so S proposed that we buy a tree.

S: Let's get a tree.
M: Let's not.
S: We're here.
M: One of us is probably going to get murdered.
S: I hope it's not me.
M: Awkward.

Ergo; we trudged into Lowe's and bought ourselves a fine little Doug fir. I like to call it a Doug fir because it makes it sound like I know my Christmas trees. In fact, later in the evening after S had picked it out, I said, "You got a Doug Fir I see," and I could tell that she was impressed with my ability to recognize different varieties of pines. Granted I was reading the label at the time, but we all need crutches.

In our marriage, I'm right at least fifteen percent of the time. It's a low enough percentage that S has to be careful when to take my advice.

M: Let's just clean out the back of the car and hang it out the back window like we did with my surf board.

S: No, it will get pine needles all over the car.

M: The car is dirty anyway. Besides, didn't we just buy a tarp?

S: I'm an efficient person (or something to that affect).

We then commenced tying extremely loose knots to strap the key to our car. Which, thanks mom for never sending me to boy scouts because it is a creepy organization, but I don't really know how to tie a proper knot. Maybe if I was from New England...
Anyhow, we tied some shoddy knots and then blissfully drove onto the freeway while people in the parking lot pointed and laughed at our handy work. No really, I saw people laughing at us. Also, our car doesn't have any sort of roof rack, so we're up shi- creek with only these shoddy knots for paddles.

Needless to say, within a mile our tree was completely sideways on the car and falling off the back Griswold style. We managed to fit the tree into the back of our car and make the rest of the drive safely home with the windows rolled down on a beautiful thirty degree evening. And I drove home blissfully aware of how right I had been from the beginning. And I didn't even mention that I had been right, I was content to just feel the wind rushing through my hair, giving me a slight case of hypothermia. Sometimes it's enough to just know you were right.

S: You were right about the tree.
M: You're damn right I was!

I guess the real lesson in this story is that getting Christmas trees will always suck. I can't wait until the day that I take my own kids to cut down a Christmas tree of our own.

M: Put down your iPods and your phones for a minute. We've got no coverage out here.
Kids: Why are you torturing us?
M: Can you smell the pines kids?
Kids: What the hell's a pine?
M: That's Doug Fir you're smelling.
Kids: What did we ever do to you?
M: Isn't it nice to be outside for once?
Kids: Is this a death hike?
M: Sigh.