Him: Don't get caught up in the wreaths. We're here for a tree.
Me: Oh ma gah I want to ride the train. Do you think they'll let me on there?
Him: Are you listening to me?
Me: Is there a height restriction for the train?
Him: Hel-lo! TREE TREE TREE
Me: Fiiiine (eye roll) I hear you. Stay out of the 7 footers. Capiche? I don't think we can fit one of those mothers through the door. Remember last year? (don't ask)
Upon exiting the vehicle here's how it went down:
Nerves dissipate as the scent of Pine, Noble Fir, Douglas Fir and whatever other wonderful
tree smells are out there waft into our nostrils. It's Christmas-tree time.
He thinks this might be the one.
While I make best friends with this tree which is, coincidentally, over 7ft tall.
Ahem. Insert foot in mouth.
The tree guy agrees that this is the one. The Chef doesn't really care. It's over 7ft tall. Sold!
Time for gymnasio into the dojo aka trying to stuff it up the stairs into our place.
Sunday afternoon we limber up for decorating time.
Okay he mocks my stationary lunges. Whatever.
Three hours later we had one strand of lights on and went for a Mexican food break.
Sounds about right.
Cut to scene and it is now Wednesday night. That one, lone, strand of lights remains on the tree due to insanity decorating at the restaurant (which looks marvy btw) while the house looks like a tornado blew through here flinging one strand of lights on the tree in the corner. On that note: I gotta go. It would be nice to have the tree decorated by Christmas and I only have 10 days left to make that happen.
