As I write this, it’s December 7th.
Using higher math I can calculate that we sit 22 days from Christmas.
Let’s just take a moment to admire how bad that math was. I’m pretty sure most people would erase that and stick in the right answer. Instead I’m going to point out that I have a degree in Engineering. Years obviously well-spent.
So, understanding that we are actually only 18 days from Christmas, we’re back on track.
And that track is that my house is in Narnia. Not the fun-because-there-are-talking-animals Narnia. But the always-winter-never-Christmas Narnia.
This is because all through my house, no Christmas is stirring. Not even a tree. Usually we go into the wilds during the weekend of Thanksgiving and cut down a tree.
You see, we live in the middle of about 8 billion pine trees.
It’s the wild frontier. Except with running water and surprisingly good internet access.
But, amidst all these many pine trees, we did not find a Christmas tree.
Do you know why?
Because trees don’t grow in Christmas Tree shape.
As far as I can tell the ONLY true-to-life Christmas tree shown in any holiday scene is Charlie Brown’s.
Trees like this are everywhere.
Do you know what trees look like Christmas trees? 40’ tall ones. But look for an 8 footer and your stuck with scraggly, too-wide, weirdly-shaped, bald-spotted ones.
Since I don’t want to wait until next weekend, I’m going to our little frontier town today where I’ve heard rumors that the flower shop is selling cut trees. Will they be good trees? I hope so, because I’m buying one.
That’s lame, huh? Forgoing the holiday festivities of cutting down a tree?
Yes, but I need the festivities that follow the tree-chopping to begin. So I’m going to pretend I don’t live on the frontier and I’m going to buy a Christmas tree.
And for the love of Christmas my house will be jolly.
Except I can’t find my Martina McBride Christmas cd. It’s like we’re cursed.
That little snippet up there echoing ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas inspired me. So I wrote this completely original, not-based-on-anything-famous poem, essentially re-writing this entire post. (Because it was that good the first time.)
Three Weeks Before Christmas
‘Twas 3 weeks before Christmas and all through the house
Nothing cheery was stirring. (I did find a dead mouse.)
There’s stockings boxed up in the crawl space below
Tangled up with the tree lights, half of which will not glow.
We searched for a tree, near and far through the hills
For a Christmas-shaped tree until we had chills.
But they’re either too tall or too small or too weird
Lopsided or crooked, bald spots and moss beards.
So the house is forlorn. Might as well be November.
My good Christmas cd–where it is? Can’t remember.
Haven’t shopped for the kids ’cause it doesn’t feel right
With no Christmas tree bright’ning the long winter night.
So today I’ll forget I live on the frontier,
I’m driving to town and saying “Oh ,dear
Let the floral shop really have trees that are good
and look just the way a real Christmas tree should!”
Because nature can’t do symmetry in a tree
Must find one that’s been pruned and trimmed perfect for me
A tree that’s living and real, but not too real, you see
Nothing captures the quandaries of the season quite like a tree.
Yes, I know, the last part just refuses to flow.
I’m leaving it as a battle cry against perfectionism. Or out of laziness. One of the two.
What quick and dirty tricks to you have to make your house jolly for the holidays? I need to make up for lost time here. Send me ideas! The jollier, the better.