It’s a holiday, so I have plenty of time, but feel that I should get time off from doing the have-tos. Like blogging.
We went with the family to a Christmas tree farm and spent waaay too much time poking, circling, sniffing and bending. What, are they like melons at the supermarket, another elaborate product-selection process, where you thump and toss and kick ‘em down the aisle? You see that topspin? That’s a good one!
I pretty much felt that if it was green, stood up straight and had a few arms to hold ornaments, it was sufficient. No one comes over to our house during the holidays, anyway; we’re all too busy visiting each other to, uh, visit each other, and certainly no one will be standing around admiring the fullness of the branches and needle gloss and whatever the hell else there is to really get into about trees.
But, noooo. We have to reject one based on its bare spot one one side and another on its too sparse top (highly desireable, I would think, for angels and stars and such). Come one, guys, we’re covered in treeees! Just pick one already. Also? I can no longer feel my toes. I’m going to chop the damn thing up for firewood so I can keep warm out here.
p.s. We did and it was a fir. Not very sappy and smells quite nice.