It’s That Time Again

Guys, I need to update the blog because it’s been a while – work, go figure! – and because we’re probably getting our tree today, and I might not live to tell the tale.

If you’ve been reading my shit for a while, then you’re probably familiar with my history of choosing xmas trees but let me recap in the words of Sir Mix–ALot: “I like ’em round, and big…I want ’em real thick and…” you get the idea.

The other day Husband and I were talking about getting the tree; we also drive past the tree farm on the way to school, so it’s been on our mind. The things that immediately spring to mind for me are the time Husband left the tree on the front step overnight because he was too pissed off to bring the mofo inside, and also the time someone copped an apple to the face. Oh, and then there’s last year, when my appropriately-sized tree turned out to be at least 5feet across. Anyhoo, Husband is all “not another big one this year, okay?” and I’m all “that’s BS, no way” and then he’s all “okay well, I have been working out, so” and I’m all *fist pumps*.

Husband is currently sleeping off a good time out last night, so I need to butter him up because he’s kinda dusty right now, except…

…stay tuned.

Another Griswold Christmas

Okay, I should have written this eeeks ago when we got our tree, but whatevs. I’ve been busy and etc, just like everybody else. Let me wrack my brain and recap…
We went to the same tree farm that we have been to for the last few years. I don’t know if they recognized us but by the end of the visit, the apple sling was off limits, so, yeah.

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Anyhoo, Husband drove with 7yo in the truck and when we had both arrived, we hopped out of our respective vehicles gingerly because it had been raining like cats and dogs and everywhere was boggy as shit. No one fell over straight away, but with people intent on getting their asses run over by walking behind reversing vehicles, – seriously, WTF people! – and then our kids followed the dumb ass example and nearly actually got run over. FFS! Cue the shortbread cookies and cider.
We trudged here, there and everywhere arguing over the size and stagnation of a suitable tree, and eventually settled on one but kept looking and then couldn’t find our first choice and then changed our mind, anyway.
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Husband and I did agree on a tree, but then the unthinkable happened… We saw that three guys were needed to lift the mofo. Oh shit. I kept silent as it was hauled onto the trailer of the little tractor and driven away. We ambled back down the hill and waited. It took a long time, and I wondered if it had, indeed, become bogged in the mud due to the weight of the tree. It came and then was unloaded.
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No apples in the face, a handful of muddy knees but no tears or swearing until much later.

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All’s well that ends well? He got over it and could look me in the eye and speak civilly to me eventually.

I feel somewhat aggrieved and Husband feels vindicated…

Remember the sound of wires snapping on the smoke stack of the chimney in the movie Titanic? That’s what it sounded like when husband cut the strings off the xmas tree, after he was finally able to stand that bad boy up in the corner.

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Everyone else thinks it is bigger than the tree from last years, I will have to check the facebook archives to be sure.
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Ok, point taken.

How did he manage to stand it up? How did I manage not to repeatedly interject? I felt I had to bear witness since I chose the tree, and perhaps to throw myself under him if  he was going to fall, or perhaps to catch the ladder if it fell, even though the ladder was extended to full length and and ridiculously long when flat, and, let’s face it, it would kill me if it fell on me, and then husband would kill me for not staying out of the way.
But it’s up and Husband didn’t fall or have it fall on him, and he is recovering on the couch, and there is still time to decorate the gentle giant before bed time.
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Husband was surprisingly keen to wield the ladder again after his nap, and the boys were ready, too.
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Obviously, presents will only be under the tree figuratively this year.