O, Christmas Tree

'Tis the season to get your jollies, fa, la, la, la, la . . . la, la, la, la!

So, we took the kids out to get our Christmas tree this afternoon. A few years ago, the missus decreed that artificial trees are the Devil's work, and they would not be allowed inside the house anymore. Now, we trek to the local Christmas Tree Depository - a patch of parking lot inside the nearest strip mall - and are met by a Christmas Tree Afficianado - basically, some homeless guy with a smock - who gives us a terrific deal on a Douglas Fir - or a twig that he conveniently painted green, who the Hell knows?

Okay, so I embellished a tad; shoot me. When we arrived at the tree place, the kids immediately wanted to re-enact The Shining. Kyle and Erik chased each other around the Christmas tree maze, losing each other almost immediately. Thankfully, I grabbed my handy dandy axe and found them, post haste.

Our first mistake was asking the kids which tree they thought we should purchase. Kyle looked around for a few minutes and found the exact tree from Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown. All that was missing was the single red ball hanging from the apex. Amazingly, Erik picked an even more pathetic tree from the lot. It stood an impressive two feet tall, and was about ten inches in diameter. He must have tossed the "Irregulars" sign away before we arrived.

Despite these obstacles I picked out an awesome tree - and by "I," I mean the wife - I wrapped it up - and by "I," I mean the lot guy - and I tied to the top of the wife's minivan - and by "I," I mean the lot guy, again - before taking it home.

After sawing off the bottom of the stump - I actually did this, despite what Captain America thinks - and dragging it inside, we propped it up, gave it some water, and enjoyed some Christmas spirit. Of course, the cellulitis frakked up our schedule, so while the family is decorating the tree after school tomorrow, I'll be at the Division, catching up on a week's worth of work.

Merry Christmas, indeed.