the griswolds we are not. this year anyway.

after two years of twelve foot trees, i have to admit that this year's tree looks a little weak. i was trying to be conservative at the tree farm. thinking that we probably didn't want to drag a huge tree through our new doorways and we definitely didn't want to anchor it to the wall. mission accomplished. and once i get over the shortness of it, i will be okay. because this tree is the greenest, kelly green i have ever seen. and the smell wafts all the way up the stairs to the back hallway where the boys' rooms are. i don't have to worry about it falling over and killing gw. or falling through a window. i don't have to buy a thousand lights for it. it won't look empty, even if we only put half our ornaments on it. and the kids like it. mw only asked me once, as he knelt down to cut the trunk with the dullest blade ever, if i was sure it was the one. usually he asks me at least a dozen times. and by the time we leave i am so overwrought with doubt about the tree i have chosen that i can't even enjoy it and i can feel the tingling sensations of a migraine coming on. none of that this year. heck, mw threw the tree on top of the car all by his onesie. it didn't hang over the front window and the trunk wasn't bigger than mw's thigh and too crooked to put in the tree-holder thingy. so, is it big and lush and beautiful? no. is it the greenest, most fragnant, perfectly shaped noble fir ever? probably.