This weekend, we went out and chopped down our Christmas tree in the forest. I was completely prepared to chop down a giant tree, even came armed with a tape measure to make sure it wouldn't scrape the ceiling in the apartment-- a concern that was largely unwarranted, considering that our ceilings are like 100 feet high, but still. I was prepared.
There were two problems. First: the forest was accessed via hayride. I hate hayrides. I'm the only person I know who loathes them, but loathe them I do. I am violently allergic to hay and straw and all of that farm-type stuff; I break out in hives at the mere thought of a hayride. Nevertheless, for the sake of our tree, I boarded the hayride and perched awkwardly on top of a trash bag spread out on the hay.
Second problem: the trees were short. I don' t think there was a tree over 6 feet in the whole forest. This was good for cutting down the tree, since the trunks were slim, but it was bad for my hopes of having a gigantic tree. I usually like one that's seven or eight feet, and I get really excited if I can get one that requires a ladder for putting the star on the top. Our tree, while gorgeous and fat and oozing all sorts of spruce goodness, is fairly short. It looked much taller in its native habitat. However, it is decorated and sitting in its designated spot and it looks adorable.
Last year, we got a tree for the apartment-- it was D's first tree ever. We put it up, after much tilting and cursing and being stuck with pine needles. "Put on some Christmas music while we decorate," I suggested.
"Mer, I'm Jewish. I don't have any Christmas music," he reminded me.
Nevertheless, he made a good effort: the John Lennon song about war being over, Elvis's "Blue Christmas" off a greatest hits album. Then we gave up and put on the Aluminum Group or something. This year, we were sure to buy some suitable music in advance.
Here's what I'm hoping Santa Claus puts under the tree this year:
A body pillow
A copy of How To Fix Everything
or something similar
The complete New Yorker on DVD
Shelves for the closet (okay, maybe this is boring, but whatever)
The ability to sleep through the night without getting up at 2, 4, and/or 7
A vacation someplace warm
A notice of impeachment for W
One of those foam memory things because I've decided today that the insomnia problem is the fault of the mattress, not me
At least three, but ideally ten or fifteen, perfect chapters
Something that automatically answers my email for me so I don't have to
Ditto something to deal with the mail
Fuzzy slippers with moose on them
White chocolate truffles
That is all.