Yesterday afternoon, I tossed a length of rope into the back of the Outback and headed down to the local Home Depot where I acquired a fine full specimen of point-towards-the-heavens greenery, which I tied to the top of the car like a deer carcass with my trusty Eagle Scout knot-tying skills and carted on home to be done up with all manner of lights and ornamentation like some sort of tacky Broadway has-been who spends her days in a haze of wine and skinny cigarette smoke and converses with the ghosts of gentleman callers past.
Actually I'm sure the tree will be perfectly tasteful. As tasteful as a Christmas tree can be, anyway.
Dunno 'bout the rest of you folks, but for me, having a kid around has sort of brought out the guy in me who always has a camera on him. The guy who sees a potential special memory in the making at every moment. I actually got upset when the Ash suggested that we not get a Christmas tree. How can we not get a Christmas tree?! We have a baby! WHAT ABOUT THE BAYBAY?!?!
This attitude totally conflicts with the dude in me who staunchly believes that such things are a total bullshit waste of time distraction from the true suffering and desperation that real people are going through in the world right now. This dude has been in charge a lot longer than the other dude, but sentimental family dude is making a play for his share of turf. These two dudes are either going to have to learn to get along somehow, or else one of them's going to get the shit kicked out of him by the other. What I actually predict will happen is that they'll take turns being the ass-kicker and ass-kicked, like in Spy vs. Spy.