Please admire the power cord within her boughs.
Although my plastic Christmas tree appears to have scoliosis, it holds a special place in my home.
Three months after I got married, I went for a summer, pre-dinner run. About a quarter mile in, as I was huffing and puffing up a hill, I spotted a lonely, fake Christmas tree sitting on the curb waiting for the garbage man to sentence it to the landfill. I immediately called my husband to share the news. He was just as excited as I was. As I waited for him to swing by on his way home from work, I guarded my prized possession from other crazed, 20-something-year-old newlyweds who would surely fight to the death for a Christmas tree in July. Fortunately, I got into no altercations.
Michael eventually arrived and we shoved the thing into the back of our Honda Accord. If you had been in the neighborhood that hot summer day, you would have seen a gleeful young woman wearing a goofy grin, sprinting downhill trying to keep up with a man driving, trunk wide open with a Christmas tree sticking out the back.
For the next four months, the tree sat in the corner of the bedroom in our teeny one bedroom apartment until it came out on Thanksgiving weekend in all its crooked Christmas glory. That December, while shopping at Target, I saw a display of fake Christmas trees. I spotted one that looked the most like mine and took a peak at the price tag. $100! Christie for the win.
Three weeks ago, we brought out the crooked tree for its second Christmas.
|Michael & Christie :)|