We went out last week, my husband and I, hoping to buy another Christmas tree. That's right: another. As in, the TWO that we already owned weren't enough. We needed another. Where better to buy an export-quality fake made-in-china tree than, well, China?
We bought two.
That's right: two. So now we have four trees up in the house, and I blame my in-laws. We didn't get this crazy, fill-every-last-inch-of-space-with-holiday-cheer-thing from my side of the family, that's for sure. So the fault must lie with my husband's genetic make-up.
The trees do look nice, though, don't they?
Did I ever tell you about my first visit to the in-laws' house, before they were actually in-laws? It was winter. In New York. I didn't have a winter coat. My poor mother-in-law probably said a prayer that night that her son would come to his senses and find a girl with brains enough to bring a winter coat with her when she travelled to New York in the dead of winter. But bless her heart, she never said a word. And she gave me a beautiful purple overcoat that I wear to this day. Literally, to this day. I had it on today in the bitter cold Beijing outdoors.
That year, I brought the dog. Why, I don't recall. But the dog ate my mother-in-law's heirloom gingerbread ornaments, the ones she'd been storing in the freezer all those years and hanging up each Christmas. To his credit, the dog didn't eat ALL of the gingerbread man ornaments. He just ate all of the bodies. He left the heads dangling from hooks on the tree.
And then, a year or so later, I married her son. It all worked out, though. She has some fabulous grandkids; I have a nice coat. She doesn't have anymore gingerbread ornaments; I have a husband who probably wonders why I haven't baked any yet, in all these years of marriage.
There's no real point to telling you this story. I just wanted an excuse to post some blurry photos of our Christmas trees. (Hey, Jill - did it work? Are the photos side-by-side? If so, it's thanks to you.)