Oh, No You Didn't
Oh, yes, we did. I can't remember if I told you, but after a 35-year-old tradition of going to various local tree farms and cutting down our fresh Christmas tree every year on the day after Thanksgiving, we succumbed to buying an artificial tree in an after-Christmas sale last year.
Here's a photo from 2011, the end of a tradition.
We didn't want to do it, but sadly, the last few years the fresh trees have lost their pine scent and stopped taking on water within a few days, at which point the needles began to drop. By the time Christmas arrived, we had a Charlie Brown tree with dunes of needles circling the base. What is causing these changes in Mother Nature's trees? When these types of things occur, I always wonder, "Is anyone doing their thesis on this subject?"
Here's a photo from 2011, the end of a tradition.
We didn't want to do it, but sadly, the last few years the fresh trees have lost their pine scent and stopped taking on water within a few days, at which point the needles began to drop. By the time Christmas arrived, we had a Charlie Brown tree with dunes of needles circling the base. What is causing these changes in Mother Nature's trees? When these types of things occur, I always wonder, "Is anyone doing their thesis on this subject?"
So this week we opened the box and put up our fancy-smancy Martha Stewart pre-lit-7.5-ft-Paley-Pine-tree. It took me an hour to comb it out, which made me feel like I knew what it was like to have a girl after all. The Mister and I have to agree that she is a beauty. We are going to buy some of those evergreen-scented car fresheners to hide up her skirt and then it's as good as real and we don't have the guilt of cutting down a living thing.
In all her glory:
One thing I do miss, however, is the ritual we went through with the real tree where Mister laid on his belly like a snake under all the low-hanging boughs and slowly and manfully rotated that heavy pan filled with water, degree by degree, until I was satisfied that the "best" side faced out. I must say he was quite patient as he rotated it around and around, never saying a word until, inevitably, on the third time around to right back where we started, I declared it to be perfect.
~~~
Mr. Murphy, him of the infamous "Murphy's Law," comes to help me decorate every year and he brings with him threephenobarbital phenomenon.
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Mr. Murphy, him of the infamous "Murphy's Law," comes to help me decorate every year and he brings with him three
One
I tenderly unwrap each ornament from the tissue paper bed I had so tenderly wrapped it in the year before. I always wrap the ornament with its hanger. Yet when I unwrap them, why do some have hangers, and some don't? Hmmm? I wonder, "Is anyone doing a thesis on this subject?"
Two
So now I need some hangers. Where are they? I've unpacked all ten giant black totes of Christmas decorations and there are no boxes of ornament hangers. How can this happen every year? (I've run out of paper clips.) Every year I buy another box of hangers. Apparently, every year I put them in a "special" place so the next year I won't have this problem. Obviously, Mr. Murphy moves them out of my special place when my back is turned. This is a very small house which makes this a very big mystery.
Three
Okay, whatever. I've extra hangers now that I've bought more, so, finally, the tree trimming can begin. It's a scientific fact that I have a 50-50 chance of placing the hanger over the branch in such a way that the front of the ornament faces out. You would think. So why is it that 100% of the time I hang it up wrong the first time? I can't help but wonder, "Is anyone . . . !"
~~~
I'll bet Mr. Murphy visits you, too! But in the end, we prevail over his ant inks, everything gets bedazzled and festivized and the house and its wall are happily beaming with Christmas joy, from the musical snowman who rocks out, "I'm a SNOWman":
to the uber cool gorilla who sings, "Ho's on the Rooftop,"
to the serene mother-of-pearl nativity set, a gift from Mister's parents on our first Christmas together, reminding us of the true meaning of Christmas:
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to the uber cool gorilla who sings, "Ho's on the Rooftop,"
to the serene mother-of-pearl nativity set, a gift from Mister's parents on our first Christmas together, reminding us of the true meaning of Christmas:
~~~
Moving outside, here is an adorable bird-on-a-birdbath ornament,
which I thought would be cute hanging from the birdhouse this year:
And I wanted to show you this whimsical wind chime pre-Christmas present I bought myself. Hopefully, you can see it better if you click on it. I'm sorry I cut the label off quickly in my excitement to hang it, so I can't tell you who manufactures it. I got it in a local store, not online, and it was the only one. Along with the froggies, it makes happy Playhouse entry art.
~~~
And, finally, here is the rum cake recipe I mentioned in yesterday's post. I have no idea who to attribute it to; it was passed around our office years ago.
Christmas Rum Cake
Before you start, sample the rum and check for quality. Good, isn't it? Now, go ahead.
Select a large mixing bowl, measuring cup, etc. and check that rum again for quality. It must be just right. With an electric mixer, beat one cup butter in a large fluffy bowl, and add one teaspoon of sugar and beat again. Meanwhile, make certain that rum is still the best quality.
Add two large eggs and two cups dried fruit and beat well until bery high. If fruit gets stuck in the beater, pry it out with screwdriver. Sample rum again, checking for consistency.
Next, sift in three cups of baking powder, pink of rum, one seaspoon toda and one cup of pepper. Or is it salt? Anway, don't fret, just test the rum again. Sowie . . .
Now, sift in half a pint of lemon juice, fold in chopped buttermilk, and add strained nuts. Rample the sum again.
Now, add one bablespoon srown tugar or whatever color is around. Mix well. Grease oven and turn on cake pan to 350. Now pour the whole mixture into the oven and ~ oops ~ now where did I put that mop?
On second thought, gorfet it, check the rest of fa rum, and go to bed!
~~~
Enjoy your day! No, seriously, enjoy your day.
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