Oh, Christmas Tree

I've been fighting it, but it's really on my mind. I know it's not even Thanksgiving yet, but Christmas is just pulling at me this year. I think that it jumpstarted when I pulled into the driveway of a very good friend expecting a typical week of bible study. Imagine my surprise to see Santa waving me in. That's right, she decorated her house and cooked a Christmas meal with all the trimmings as an early surprise. It worked. The whiskey soused turkey put it over the top!

So, all day today I fought the urge to drag out all the decorations from the attic and set them up early. I mean, after all, I'm not hosting Thanksgiving.... why not? And then the thought of the ol' Christmas tree came to mind. And all the trees of Christmas past. When we first bought our artificial tree I swore that it would always look good. I vowed not to smash it back into the box from which it came. Every year, I carefully pack it away and bag up the tree top to leave PLENTY of room. But, seriously, it hasn't helped. Last year, I noticed that it took an incredibly long time of fluffing and sprucing to fan out the branches appropriately. Yet, huge holes resembling the Charlie Brown tree were still there. I hung exceptionally large ornaments in the holes, trying to camouflage... Still, not great.

And, then a brilliant thought! Why not buy a new one? A smaller version. One that actually didn't require the removal of living room furniture to fit into the room (I swear it didn't look that big on the showroom floor). One that wouldn't take half a day to wrap in lights and that would only hold the best looking ornaments. Surely, I could just set one on a coffee table near the window. I mean seriously, gifts for teenagers come in very small electronic sized packages or money envelopes.... no more bikes or Tonka trucks to wrap. Why not evolve?

Yes, it is a brilliant idea, but why does it make me feel OLD? Like the Grandma that doesn't care enough to go all out anymore? I twinge of guilt struck. So, I asked Prince Lawn Gnome what he thought about getting a new tree, "maybe, a smaller one?" A look of complete betrayal, similar to the time when he found out Santa wasn't real came across his face. "We can't get a new tree! Not unless it's a REAL one."

A real one... I had not thought of a real one. We used to trudge out into the tree farm looking for the perfect tree, back before I realized that such adventures are detrimental to marriages. A real one? Not a bad, nostalgic idea... so maybe, just maybe we will venture out once again trying to appease five conflicting personalities all in the name of memories.