O Christmas Tree (266th new thing).
January 27, 2012 § 2 Comments
I decided that I would love a real Christmas tree this year. Nothing too big, but not quite Charlie Brown either. Although, I would probably lean more toward the sad skinny plant if the choice were between it and a bushy mess. I even picked out a place for the tree to live where Murphy would have little chance to mark it as his own or chew off a branch. I had put up a slightly tilted fake version of the holiday symbol in the past years, but I figured a real tree would fill the house with an authentic odor.
I’ve had real Christmas trees before, growing up. But I don’t really remember ever going with my dad to either select or cut down the thing. So I didn’t know what I was getting into.
Patrick and I walked into Lowes and saw row upon row of bundled trees. I wanted the smallest, saddest one in the bunch, but they were all relatively healthy. We picked out one in the 5-6 foot range, the shortest possible height (my idea being to display the tree on a side table). I grabbed the tag and made my way to the checkout, picking up a stand along the way.
After I had paid and Patrick had gone to drive my car around for the great trunk stuffing (I have a fairly large trunk), I stood lonely in the middle of Lowes’ Garden Center, wondering what to do next. The cashier asked me if I wanted my tree trimmed and I stared back with a blank expression. Huh? What does that mean?? Seeing Patrick just outside the door I hollered for him to quickly come back (I had already informed him that he would be the liaison between me and all things tree-related while we were shopping. Surely such a strapping young lad knew something about Christmas Trees).
Meanwhile the three employees around me burst out laughing at my befuddled reaction. That didn’t help, so I yelled louder for Patrick to please come inside, right now. Those ten seconds felt like an eternity, a dream where I went to school naked, or was glued to the ground while the world around me burned. I really abhor not knowing what to do.
Patrick came in and we sorted out the question of tree trimming (yes, we wanted it trimmed down to about four feet). Of course there wasn’t a nearby tape measure, so I kind of guesstimated and pointed to a random spot where I assumed was approximately four feet from the top of the tree. Brandon the trimmer set to work, I’m sure none to pleased with me and my lack of knowledge of the sacred Christmas Tree.
The tree was wrapped in a plastic netting and stuffed into my awaiting trunk. It fit like a dream. On the way out the cashier asked me if I knew how to take care of the tree. “Water it?” I hesitatingly asked. She chuckled, nodded encouragingly and leaned in to let me in on a Christmas Tree secret. “Add a little sugar or aspirin to the water to keep the tree looking lush and healthy.”
I broke into a grin with this awesome insider knowledge (call me Heloise!), thanked her, and skipped out to the waiting car. Maybe the whole real tree thing wasn’t so difficult after all. Except that I think I may be allergic to the darn thing.