Friday, December 17, 2010

Christmas Bush

When picturing the memory making moment of picking out a Christmas tree, and taking it home to decorate I picture my family like a new aged version of the Walton’s- with 6 less children. I picture my son, and for once his hair does not have two cowlicks and is lying flat on his head. My Hubby and I are holding hands, while the unmistakable voice of Nat King Cole serenades us. The house smells of fresh baked sugar cookies and it is warm with the glow of an open fire.

In reality, Honey calls me at work- to leave me a message about the free tree that he found on the side of the road. I immediately wonder if by found he means “that I cut from some guy’s yard”. He goes on to explain via voice mail that the spirit of Christmas has nothing to do with spending $30 on a tree for the living room. Mind you, he spends $30 a day at convenience stores on junk food and Red Bulls to keep him going.

When I arrive home with our son, whose hair is sticking up so much that it actually looks like it is floating an inch above his scalp- I see the tree. It is leaning up against Honey’s truck outside and from what I can tell the found tree is better than I had imagined. I clear a spot in my cluttered, fire place-less living room, directly in front of the window so that passersby will see my new beautiful tree decorations and flashing lights. Honey drags the tree in and sets it in the stand. The bottom 2 feet of the tree is branchless and the tree is three feet taller than our living room. The obvious solution would be to cut off the branchless bottom- however, there is not one trunk...there are three. To cut anything from the bottom would unravel the entire…well bush. I have a Christmas bush.

I begin to cry a bit. Honey, scared that I may demand that he go back out and pay $30 for a real tree springs to action- telling me that this can be fixed. Our son has taken no interest in the Christmas bush and so instead of Nat King Cole’s voice serenading me I have the sound of a RC Monster truck slamming into my armoire to calm my nerves. Oh, wait and now the sound of drilling.

Honey manages to drill 6 or so holes into the bottom of the three trunks and fill them with the two feet of branches that he has sawed off from the top. My tears have subsided and Honeys enthusiasm causes me to make the best of the situation. I string the bush with lights, and bulbs. I hang the Santa and the star. And then, I shut the curtain.

Happy Holidays Readers! See you next year!