Tonight, Andrea and I bought a Christmas tree from the most well-dressed tree-cutter. ever. probably in his mid-twenties, this guy had on a crisp lavendar button-down shirt (is it button-down, or button-up?), grey slacks, and black italian leather shoes. the plaid flannel jacket and thick tan gloves killed the outfit, though.
he may not have looked like he knew what he was doing, but he told us things like "hot water shocks the tree and makes it drink more" and "our trees last longer because they have been refrigerated", so we believed him.
needless to say, we found the perfect tree. at 8 ft tall, dark green, and slightly full, this thing was a beaut. much to the amusement of the tree-farm workers, we shoved it in the back of andrea's Highlander and were on our way. the stump of the tree fit perfectly between the driver and passenger seats, and the top only got smashed a few times when we slammed the lid down.
we even managed to carry this beast of a bush up 3 flights of stairs without too much difficulty (did i mention andrea's nickname is "muscles"?). several branches fell off in the hallways--which i never did go back and pick up--but i'm sure the neighbors won't mind. everybody loves a little mistletoe now and then.
then, we shoved that baby in the piping hot water and screwed it into place. andrea crawled out from under the tree, and we admired our find.
if only i had a digital camera, i'd show you the pic.....
santa, are you reading?