Today is sure to get me out of my non-Christmas funk. And that's because today, hubby and I are on the hunt for: The Perfect Christmas Tree.
Growing up, it was always my "job" to go and find the tree with Dad. I say "job" because I took this role seriously. And so did Dad. (We are very much alike). We would never settle for an "okay" tree. Oh, no, no... We had to find the most perfectly shaped and sized tree that would sit in the corner of our living room in all its tree glory.
And, of course, bigger is always better.
I would follow Dad around as he eyeballed the trees, until we both came across one we considered worthy of our household. Next, Dad would hold the tree upright so that I could take several steps back and scrutinize it from a respectable distance, getting an idea of how it would look in our home from a variety of angles. (When I got a bit older and could actually hold the tree up myself, we would reverse so Dad could also do some serious scrutinizing).
As I said, this was serious. And it always paid off. Because we always, always had an awesome tree. (So awesome one year, that we actually had to tie it to our wall. Its giant, bulbous shape and height made it a bit too much for our little tree stand. It was wicked.)
So, after moving out of my parents' home and moving in with hubby, I've realized that my Dad has continued to find amazing trees every year. Ours, on the other hand, have been merely satisfactory.
Until this year.
Christmas 2008 marks the year that Hez's tree no longer pales in comparison to Dad's tree. It's a total tree-off this year. I'm taking this as seriously as I did when I was a little girl.
That's right. Bring it, Dad. I'm so ready for you.