O Christmas Tree
An urban Christmas tree and a country Christmas tree are two totally different things. I didn’t really realize that until today.
In my first full day in the “biiiig ciiity,” I went Christmas tree shopping for my sister’s house. Ex-ci-ting. No really. It was interesting. I’ve never bought a citified tree before and new experiences always have something to be taken from them.
After tooling around the Bay area in search of Christmas trees, we went to Home Depot. We passed up a small piece of shrubbery sitting in a pot and settled on a Douglas fir (not to be confused with any other type of fir. or fur. hahaha…I thought it was funny).
And long story short, we got the Christmas tree man to whip some string around it, we lashed it to the top of the car (yes, we mere women managed to secure a Christmas tree securely enough to cart it home) and erected it in the room of living.
This story really isn’t all that interesting except it reminded me of my last encounter with the getting of the Christmas tree - a country Christmas tree.
Bumping around on the backroads of nowhere, searching out ditch trees to grace our living room, my father asked my opinion of the tree he finally decided on. I told the truth - that I didn’t care.
Apparently that wasn’t acceptable and I was chastised for my bad attitude and my lack of caring. Ironically - or not - I really didn’t have a bad attitude about it. I just really didn’t care. It put a whole new meaning into forcing the holiday cheer on someone else and slanted my view of the hunt for the Christmas tree ever after.
