Ho Ho Ho-ly Crap

I've just realized something. The Christmas Season seems to be upon us.

I played my first Christmas concert, last night, and in doing so missed the 40th anniversary of the showing of my wonderfully misfitted friends, Rudolph and Hermey. So you know what I did? I just went out after the concert last night and bought a copy of the show on DVD. So there. Now I can watch at my leisure, over and over, doing the twirling dance with Melf as he sings "We Are Santa's Elves," and more importantly, skipping right through Burl Ives singing "Silver and Gold."

But quite a bit of my Christmas thought processes this year have been taken up by The Tree.

The ol' Christmas Tree is always a sticking point with me. I love Christmas Trees. I detest throwing the lights on them, but once those babies are on I have a ball putting on my ornaments, sticking Abominable Snowman atop it so he can put on the star, and then sitting back and enjoying my efforts.

But of course, I'm me. I always have the pre-Christmas Tree nervous breakdown.

Last year was the worst, I'm sure because I was having a damn nervous breakdown anyway. I was depressed past the point of suicide. But still, every day of December, I agonized. Am I going to put a tree up? Do I want to do the work necessary - especially those damn tree lights, the bane of my existence? I always have to wait till someone else is around to help me buy the thing, help me load it in a car, get it home, get it in the stand, and then get it in my house. I either have to wait till my Dad's back home for the holidays, or my brother-in-law has the time. I've never imposed upon Mr M for this task. Then I have to remember (usually when waking up at 3 in the morning) to keep it well watered so it doesn't spontaneously combust in my living room. And then there are the needles.

And so I agonize, and wait later and later and later and 99% of the time get a tree up and going but in not nearly time enough to enjoy it. Then add in the fact that I generally want a Christmas Tree down the day after Christmas. Nothing's lonlier than a post-Christmas Tree.

And having said all that, I love a real tree. I fought with my parents when I was young, and fight with them now, every time they say they're not doing the real tree thing. "If you want me at your house on Christmas, you will!" I usually answer. And I never imagined a time when I myself wouldn't have one.

Until now.

I've been thinking of the Fake Tree route lately. And it's killing me. Especially since I found one last night that really, really like. It's very very full, and pre-lit - a pre-lit would be the main reason for having a Fakie - and not only that, its lights are colored lights and not white. I'm a colored light gal. The tree is $199, on sale for $149. Which isn't bad for such a nice tree, but do I want to spend that money and be locked into a Fake Tree for eternity?

Do I want to become a Fake Tree Gal??

Anyway, it's odd that I should be thinking so hard upon it this year, the Christmas that's shaping up to be pretty stress-free for me. See, our family's going to try something a little new this year, something we've flirted with for years and never quite got together.

We're getting the hell out of town for Christmas!

We mulled over three scenarios, but for me there was really only one of the three for me. And I was determined to do all I could to make sure my location won. The three nominees were: a cruise, Las Vegas, or New Orleans. I wanted New Orleans. And the winner was - New Orleans!
We're leaving on the 23d and coming back the 27th. It's going to be me, the folks, my sister, her husband, and Taytie. And we're hoping Mr M will see fit to come along, but he's still on the fence. We're hoping he'll fall off on the side of going.

So. That should be fun. And even though I'm going to be gone, I've got the itch to put up a tree. Maybe even a Fake Tree! What's wrong with me?

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Well, I had my bloodletting yesterday morning. I decided to do an end run past the hospital and go straight back to Smokin' Dr J's office and make sure that was in fact a thyroid test he'd set me up for. And he had. It wasn't pretty. I didn't speak to the doctor directly, but I was sitting nearby when he read the note attached to my orders saying I wasn't taking the test, and saw him take a pen, put the orders on his knee, and scratch out the thyroid part of the test. Then he tossed the paper back to the receptionist. I won, for now.
* Remember the funeral home in town I told you about that had the jolly "Merry Christmas, You're Going To Die" 12 ft inflatable snowman in their yard? This year they have a jolly "Merry Christmas You're Going To Die" 12 ft inflatable Santa in their yard. Kids here are going to be traumatized.