|I just noticed a fern growing out of my flower bed. Huh.|
|Check out the sweet fingerless gloves! Thanks Stacy!|
I’m very excited today because yesterday I got a Christmas tree. I’d been feeling a little under the weather this weekend and as I ho-hummed my way around the house rather than ho-ho-ho, something to do with stuff I won’t dwell on like insomnia and how long it takes to walk home (exactly one hour) with two bags of groceries (weighed down with dairy, dairy, eggs, more dairy and two salmon fillets), though I won’t dwell here on why, (car broke down, forgot cell phone at home, don’t know anyone’s number apparently and mis-dialed my sleeping husband’s three times until I got it right.) I was perfectly ready to give up on a tree.
Then it dawned on me. That is EXACTLY why I needed to get that tree. You can’t come home to a house that smells all yummy and Christmas-y covered in twinkly lights of happiness without a little bounce taking over your step and compulsively busting into Santa’s Little Helper’s dance. Skip that last part, that may just be me. I confess, I have a happy dance. It involves a swinging and rotating of the hips, somewhat but not necessarily rhythmically. Some times, when I get really carried away, there’s clapping. I’m multi-dimensional that way.
I conspired with a BFF, shuffled a meeting around to take an early lunch, got picked up in his Christmas Tree Chariot, A.K.A.: the big white truck, and off we went.
There were three price ranges. Charity almost got the best of me as I considered one of the discount trees. They just seemed so sad and sparse. Some were a little yellow, too. Lonely, tugging at my heartstrings. Ah, but the voice of Christmas reason kicked in just in the nick of time and I quickly settled on a beautiful Douglas Fir. (Charity is for other things, not Christmas trees!) My friend Tracy took a video of me hugging it for his girlfriend abroad. See what a tree hugger I am?
Now I’m so happy that I can barely contain my excitement! I skipped yet another holiday party to go running, better for the spirit and the insomnia than alcohol and a late bedtime. I think. And I can’t wait to start decorating!
I’ll even get to hang the ornament I bought for our house this year. This one I penned after The Fantastic Mr. Fox. That’s his name: The Fantastic Mr. Fox. Look, I covered my naming convention quirks early on, (see Hootie). He’s really, really cute! And now he has a home!
My husband gets dubious of my enthusiastic Christmas spirit. So much so that he attempts to operate with a little tough love and says things like “look, you want a tree, you get a tree, but you know the rules. You bring it home, you decorate it, you clean up after it and you get it out of the house afterwards.” You’d think I was asking for a puppy.
This Pollyanna really heard him say: “Look, I love that you got our home a beautiful tree. And that you did it while I was busy at work during your lunch break. Thank you for decorating it, it warms the cockles of my heart. I love you more every day.”
See, I know what he means.
Deets: Shimmery purple turtleneck/Michael Starts, charcoal shawl cardigan/Cheeky Boutique, raspberry scarf/handmade by my adopted grandma, necklace/Alexis Bitar, crystal cocktail ring/Ariella, super snazzy striped fingerless gloves/handmade by my friend Stacy, skinny jeans/Old Navy, boots/ModCloth, smile/courtesy of Christmas tree purchase.