“God bless us, every one …” especially my husband. He is a good man. He is a patient man. And luckily, he finds humor in my situations.
The kids and I set out to find this year’s tree yesterday afternoon. We were in the market for a tall, thin tree … not the usual suspect: short, stocky and slightly Charlie Brown-ish. We walked behind the house and up and down the hill, in search of THE ONE. We wrapped a brightly-colored scarf around the top branches to signal our choice to the man of the house.
He started the tree felling about 9 p.m. His only comment, “It’s tall.”
Yes, it was tall … and it looked A LOT taller in my house than it did on the hillside. I had assured him it was about eight feet. The reality: it’s 12 of 13 feet tall. And there is only one spot in the whole house where such a gigantic tree will fit. Lucky for me we have a tall step ladder. Lucky for me dear old hubby didn’t mind that I now had to move all of the furniture to accommodate what we jokingly called, “The White House Christmas Tree!”
It is tall. It is heavy. It drinks a heck of a lot of water. It rendered my kids speechless. Yep. It’s this year’s perfect tree. Or it will be, after the kids have a chance to adorn it with their ornaments. Toilet-paper-tube angels and all!
Ohhhhhh. Christmas tree!
