Life in our house is pretty peaceful. The kids are kind to one another--for the most part, and Mountain Man and I rarely get in any disagreements. He is the rare, patient soul who would move heaven and earth for anyone he loves. Over the years he has gone along for the ride with some of my crazier ideas.
Shortly after we were engaged, and in the midst of planning a 3 course-sit-down-all-out-wedding-reception, he calmly (and with great relief, I think) rolled with it when I called the grand event off and bought two tickets to Europe instead.
When we decided to move to the City of 3000, upon seeing the interior of our house, I gasped and turned to look at him with wide eyes. It was a lovely turn of the century Arts & Crafts, but it had been shamelessly tortured, and was in need of some serious T.L.C. He knew the sign, he put his lips together and took a deep breath. I dived in, and with both hands, some blood, lots of sweat and a fair share of tears, I had my way with her.
When I decided to shave my head and let it come in the color heaven gave me--grey--it was Mountain Man who convinced me to let the roots grow out before I cut it off so I wouldn't have to shave it, and in turn, keep my Montana head warmer in the winter months. (I was just going to get a hot-pink waist length wig until it grew out, but, I concede, his idea was better than mine.)
You see, with all my schemes, I rely on Mountain Man to pull me back from the edge of unreason.
Because most decisions I make, I make quickly, and commit completely. I jump in with both feet and figure if it doesn't turn out--well then, the fates can have their way and I'll be the wiser next time. Most of the time, the expeditiousness of my decision making serves me well, that is...until yesterday.
Every year, as a family, we go-a-hunting for the Christmas tree. We will usually look at 5 or 6 and then choose one. We always, always, always go together. But for some reason, I got it in my head to "just run after school" with the kids and get the tree so it would be ready to move in when Mountain Man got home.
WHAT WAS I THINKING??
Upon dragging it in the house and wrestling it into the stand, I gazed in wonder at the pine forest before me and uttered, "Oh. My. Christmas Tree. It really did look smaller on the lot."
Mountain Man said, "Compared to what? The tree at Rockefeller Center??"
Here's a couple of pictures:
Seriously, the pictures don't do it justice.
Mountain Man is 6' 5" tall, but his arm span is 6' 8" across. The tree, before we cut the top off was 13 feet tall and is 7 feet wide. In one rash decision, I have decreased the size of our living room by a cool one-quarter for the month of December.
The fates have finally caught up with me.
[Sigh.] Maybe we should just invest in a nice artificial tree next year.
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What Christmas tree adventures have you experienced?
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