Let the dog in!

Today proved it! There is no doubt! This family has balls! Here’s the scene: cloudy, dark morning, 16 days until Christmas….
DH: (on couch with first, yes, first mug of joe) Maybe we should get going to get a tree now, since more and more people will go this weekend. You wanted to cut one ourselves, right?
ME: (in pj’s, glancing at clock, glancing at spouse’s mug, glancing at clock) Sure….

So, off we go and go and go. We drove at least 45 minutes, passing 23, 24, 25 different other tree places, pre-cut and u-cut. We were heading to where a coworker of DH said the “best trees” were and they had looked around (as an aside, I have noticed recently that some men discount what we women say, look for advice merely from another man, and then decide, yes, That is The way to go). I make mental note to relate sympathies to the spouse of this coworker for their extended search, and then keep looking for our turn, and another turn, and another turn.

Meanwhile, as this hunt proceeds, the rain has begun to change into a regular gully-washer, as we used to say back in Texas.

Finally, past some scary-looking, rundown homes with All kinds of things in their yards, we find it. Rain continues. The tree farm is manned with large, moustached men wearing camo rain gear, straight out of Cabela’s.

As DH slows the car and turns into the muddy drive, he says…..”Oh, they take cash only. You have cash, right?”
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Having trouble opening my purse, fingers trembling with the rage boiling out, I find $7. I am pretty sure trees cost more than this, even those u-cut. DH opens his wallet to find $0.00. I lose it. Among the numerous and colorful comments made in the car this morning, one of the last ones was “stop freaking out.” DH finds a single, folded check in his wallet. They take checks.

We park the car, get the hand saw and start walking around. Gully-washer continues. Due to last weekend’s pony rides, Kid’s boots were not in the car. She got to walk around in leather loafers. The kid who hates coats at least put on her raincoat. A few minutes into marching around the many stumps of former trees, she said, “I’m cold. I want to go back to the car.” (Now, her resemblance to me surfaces??) Oh, no, sweetie, this is fun. We’re having fun. I secretly lean in and bribe her that maybe we’ll go to a restaurant and get hot chocolate when we’re done. She stays out. By the end, her hair is dripping down her front and her little hands are wet, cold and red. I feel bad. We are all soaked to the bone, even with raincoats on. She perks up once she is back in the car and starts taking all her clothes off while DH ties the tree on the roof. All the way home, as we carefully and slowly pummel our precious tree at highway speeds, I see very suitable trees everywhere, in lots, in farms, growing wild by the highway. Me and my bright ideas.

Here we are at home now, with our little Cousin It. It is a shaggy style tree, a pine, I think. It is very cute, and we have our wet memories of the tree hunt. Next year, tree lot down the street.

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