Two Writing Teachers host Slice of Life on their blog. Join us and link up too!
I'm stubborn. Headstrong. When I get an idea, and I want to do it, watch out. While I've learned to take this energy and use it for good, naturally, there was a time before I was mature (older?) where funny things happened because of my ideas.
We've been married for about 15 years. Rewind to the first year in our first home. Our second year of marriage? (Maybe 3rd.) A small 1950s ranch with blue carpet, built in bookshelves, and neighbors who took care of us because we had no idea what we were doing as homeowners.
We had the dog. Now we needed the tree. Not just any tree. A Real Christmas Tree. I insisted on it. I knew they needed lots of water. What else is there to know?
My Mr. wasn't sold, but we got in the tiny red 2-door Cavalier and rolled down the hill to the tree display.
"I want that one."
It is hanging out of our car. It barely fits. That should have been the first sign. We drive back up the hill, like something out of a bad Christmas comedy. The car is going maybe 7 miles an hour. I'm convinced we are going to lose the tree. We don't.
We wrestle the tree into the house. We place it in the stand.
The top of the tree it bent over squished against the ceiling. It's too tall.
We wrestle the tree back outside. We don't have tools-we're newlyweds in the suburbs. But Mr. does have a tiny hand-held saw. He begins to hack at the tree, and after a short while he begins to utter profanities under his breath. But the base is sawed off. A Small Victory!
Another wrestling match, back inside the house. After more wrestling, and more uttering, the tree is in the stand!
Jackson the wonder dog (Puppy at the time), takes one lap under the tree. It leans to the left, it leans to the right. The tree ends up on the living room floor.
Promptly after that, my tree ended up in the backyard wood pile. In my head, I'm pretty sure Mr. hauled that tree out in one arm he was so frustrated! (But really, I'm sure we wrestled it outside together.)
So, you will forgive us 15 years later, if we smile at your real tree stories. :) We are remembering our own. And no, we haven't had a real tree since. But yours is beautiful!