Ill advised Christmas adventures...or just another Thursday at my place.

I wasn't going to put up a Christmas tree this year.  I wasn't even going to decorate.  It is not that I hate the holiday, I mean how can ANYBODY hate a holiday that lasts almost a month and involves glitter, sparkly lights, several parties that makes wine at work...i.e., "the company Christmas Party,"  suddenly a socially acceptable situation?  Truthfully, I LOVE Christmas, and it has nothing to do with the presents (but, you know, if you were PLANNING on sending me one, don't let that last sentence stop you....). It has to do with what I like to call the "Anne of Green Gables" effect.

When I was growing up, I watched all of the "Anne of Green Gables" TV movies put out by PBS (as all young girls from conservative Christian households have) and fell in love with Gilbert Blithe (again, as all young girls from conservative Christian households have) and wished dearly that life was consisted of long dresses, elbow gloves, sleigh rides in winter and parties that involved couples dancing as opposed to "bumpin' and grindin'." Life was simple but magical and I decided right then, in all my 13 year old wisdom, that was the kind of life I wanted.

And then life bitch slapped me right across my naive face.  The reality of work, bills, children's schedules and all of the adult responsibilities that make up every day life, have made my "Anne of Green Gables" longings seem childish and very far away.  Magic?  Simplicity?  In this day in age, that shit costs a LOT of money.  Sleigh rides are like, $50 bucks a person and even finding a place where couples dance as opposed to having sex on the dance floor with clothes on, is near impossible. Besides, this year has been tough - emotionally, I just didn't feel very "Christmasy" and we are gone every year for the last week December on vacation, so decorating just seemed like a waste of time and energy.

But on December 2, 2015, the San Bernadino shooting took place.  And as I watched my T.V. change from "Kelly and Michael" to yet ANOTHER breaking news story involving mass casualties of foreign and domestic terror, I decided right then and there that I needed to do something. ANYTHING.  So I decided that I would put up a Christmas tree.  A real tree that smells like the woods and childhood.  I don't know how I hoped to curb the world's problems with a tree, but I DO know that the world could use a little glitter and some damn Christmas magic.

As with all of my ideas, this project was slightly more involved than I had originally planned.  It started off great - I went to the Christmas tree lot, lit by old fashioned light bulbs swinging from ropes and I found the perfect tree.  We have high ceilings so I went for the 8 and 1/2 footer.  It took two men to load it in the back of the truck... THAT should have been my sign.  But no.  I drove home, jumped in the truck bed and realized that I was, yet again, neck deep in a project where I had no idea what I was doing. But I was going to spread some Christmas cheer and put glitter, and sparkly lights and love into the universe, damn it, and the fact that I had a hundred pound tree in the back of the truck and no way to get it inside, was a minor detail.

To his credit, Mr. W had TOLD me he would help me with this project when he got off work (probably realizing all that was involved in this Christmas tree fiasco and wanting to spare me, and our house, possible destruction), but I thought that surprising him would be better.  (*Side note: my husband does not like surprises, even good ones.  But that doesn't keep me from trying...much to his chagrin).  When the guys at the Christmas tree lot asked if there would be someone to help me unload, I smiled and told them it would be just me!  They exchanged glances and wrapped the tree in rope... obviously they knew the scenario that was going to unfold.

Faced with a hundred pound tree and no way to get it in my house, I briefly considered using a wheelbarrow, but the physics of that maneuver just didn't seem to add up...even for this math dunce.
So I just decided to haul it in.  I took hold of that rope and dragged it into my house.  I think my neighbor's used to stare in disbelief at the shit that would routinely happen across the street.  But seeing me lug a giant tree across my driveway and attempt to heave it through a doorway where it doesn't fit, is pretty much a typical Thursday at this point.

It took me several hours, but I got the tree in and up and managed not to knock the TV off the wall, which surprised the hell out of Mr. W. (...it kinda surprised the hell out me too, but I didn't tell him that.)  I put so many glittery, sparkly ornaments and lights on that tree it practically shimmers and it DOES feel magical, and it DOES smell like childhood and I am SO glad that I persevered through the holiday blues (and common sense) and put the tree up. Every time I look at it I see my own personal pillar of wonder, magic, love, childhood, peace and the Christmasy "feels."  I also see a pillar of strength to overcoming impossible odds - like finding the goodness in a world that is in chaos...or getting a huge tree into your house by yourself without causing structural damage. So many things.

Pain in the ass though it may have been, I love my tree and I am going to sleep in my living room on the floor looking at the lights, drink peppermint schnapps in my hot chocolate, watch "Love Actually" for the 50th time, and be a hopeless romantic about life.  I may not be able to create an "Anne of Green Gables" world to live in but I still have more sparkle in my life than most and when it is not there, I am learning to create it - One ill-advised, unplanned, wonderful escapade at a time.
Merry Christmas!