Another Merry Christmas Tree

It’s December, which means it’s time for a Christmas Tree Saga from yours truly. But honestly, the drama just wasn’t there, this year, even though I chose a) the biggest tree on the lot and certainly b) the tallest of our short lives.

I dressed for the occasion

We rocked up the other day and it was still November because Husband’s travel meant he’d be away the first two weekends in December. Last year the road to perdition was muddy as fuck but being at the beginning of the festive season meant other people would get the muddy end of the stick, er trunk. Anyhoo, it was glorious outside and the kids ran around after critiquing the cider.

Aside from choosing the mobile phone tower, again, I felt like there was less to choose from, this year. In two years it looks like there’ll be a bumper crop, but I cast my eye back to the welcoming scene at the door and Husband inwardly groaned, his back twinged in anticipation. 

No, not that one

It was pre-cut and trying to catch our attention from the get-go with that seductive pose. The kids ran off the sling-shot while Husband and I had a war of eye-rolls.

Someone copped an inadvertent apple in the nuts

Everyone came to investigate and agreed that save for the mobile phone tower, it probably was, or had been, the tallest tree on the lot. The potential problem would be baling.

And carrying.

And getting it home.

But not necessarily in that order.

Anyhoo, we made it! The tree is up, no divorce in sight, and I even managed to get a few lights close to the top,

 though the star never had a chance.

Merry Christmas, y’all!

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Welcome Back Bitch!

Husband and I have flown into SanFran for a wedding sans kids (my parents are in town) and we are hob-knobbing at the groom’s parents house. We often see these friends annually on holidays but we haven’t visited this house for ten plus years and that first/last occasion is burned into my brain for not the best reason…
Husband proposed to me and then a few months later we flew into the US for his cousin’s wedding in TX and we also did a drive from SanFran to Oregon and planned our future lives during the drive. Anyhoo, on our last day at our friends’ house we had nothing doing before we left and so Husband showed me the lovely backyard. Bear in mind that I had been on the rag that week. Oh yeah, it’s one of those stories. I couldn’t find my bag to take with me so I forgot it to go and see the lovely yard. And the yard was lovely – blooming, fragrant, paved in part, private, the list of adjectives goes on. And there, in the middle of that pretty space, was my bag, with the remainder of the box of tampons, all over the ground. They were bitten, blown around, and generally LITTERING THE WHOLE GODDAMN YARD. The dog, the fucking dog, couldn’t get enough of me and so she had at some point, snuck into our room and stolen my bag to get a noseful before I walked out of her life forever, unbeknownst to her that I would eventually return. I was mortified to discover that picturesque blending of menstrual cotton and flagstone A) at all, B) in front of my newly-minted fiancĂ© and C) thankfully – SO THANKFULLY – not in the company of our hosts. OMFG.
And so here we are, today. I was forced to face the scene of that particular crime against me and the yard wasn’t as verdant as I recall, but the dog looked just as guilty, but maybe her head was down because she was attempting to sniff me out, bitch!