Day 27 - I slay the most mighty tree in the wood

I am not a Christmas person. I have been told that I am a 'Bah Hum Bugger'. Not that I don't like Christmas, just the getting to Christmas. Perhaps this is because I believe that there is very little Christmas spirit left in the world, what with all of the mall madness, and the stress, and the making sure that everything is just perfect, and the never breaking of any tradition, and the travel, and moaning, and groaning about being happy on Christmas damn it overshadowing what the season is really supposed to be about. True or not, let's just say that I have a bit of a chip on my shoulder about the whole holiday exercise, so when Becky announced that this would be the year that we got or first real Christmas tree, I was less than thrilled.

Now since I am aware that I am not a Christmas person I can work toward being in the holiday spirit. I believe that there should be laws about decorating your house before thanksgiving, but I was out there on Friday with a wreath, garland and 1,500 lights to dress up the joint for the celebration of the birth of our Lord. The house looks great, and I am happy that I did it. I can get into Christmas, it just has to be on my terms.

If we must have Christmas tree we are certainly not going to the local Home Depot and throwing one of the precuts on top of the car. If it were up to me we would do it Clark W. Griswald style, drive out into the wilderness in the family truckster, dig a tree up with out bare hands in 20 deg weather and 3ft of snow! I knew that this was impractical, and I really did not want to Dig up a tree, so I settled on trucking about and hour out of town to a cut your own tree farm.

The warm weather of last week was now but a distant memory and the snow had begun to fall as we headed out in search of our tree. After driving for abut 45 minutes we arrived at the Addison Oaks tree farm. Stepping out of the car on my appointed manly task the words "Be careful what you wish for..." we echoing in my head as the 20 deg wind whistled past my bare ears. With my wife rolling her eyes at me and my dog jumping out of his skin to go personally mark which tree he wanted, I was not to be deterred and we pressed on into the field.

I have very vivid memories of cutting Christmas trees in my youth. Just like the Griswalds, the whole family would pack into the 'green bean' (our 1981 Volvo 240DL station wagon) and head out to find the perfect tree. There are rules about cutting a Christmas tree, the first and most important is to NEVER pick the first tree you find. This is an adventure, and if my chosen sport is any indication, adventures take time.

After finding and rejecting several candidates, with the cold lowering our standards, we found the perfect tree. Time for my manly task of felling this wonder of nature and thus proving my ability to provide for my family.

I am suddenly transported back to 1987 when as an 11yr old I uttered my first curse word in front of my parents. My hands numb and the tree fighting back with needles in the eyes and ears, I am beginning to think that this may not have been the best idea. Since it is waaaayy to late to turn back, I press on hoping that this will not take long enough to lose a finger to frostbite.

After about five minutes of cutting VICTORY IS MINE!

With our trophy lashed to the roof of the car we began to wind our way home. Due to a parade in one of the small towns this too turns into quite and adventure, as we drive on dirt roads for about 45 minutes before we return to civilization. Our Adventure now official and authentic, I decide to leave the actual decoration of the tree to Becky.

I have to say that she did a mighty fine job with the lights and ornaments, even if I did not do such a great job with the straightness of the tree. No worries, it is now perfectly straight and shining in the front window.