Hunting the Perfect Tree

When we lived in NY, we always cut down our Christmas tree. They had large tree farms with tractor rides, live animals, elaborate shops and warm cider. It was a family event. Everyone into you snow suit. Pile in the van. Browse the fields for a while. Covet the tree that some eager-beaver family tagged when it wasn't freezing outside. Return to the second tree you saw and chop it down. Lug it back to the tractor. Strap it to the roof of the van. Re-pack the children. Fight with the tree to made it stand. Decorate. Admire.

So when we arrived in Illinois, we carried on the tradition. Year one we drove over the river and through the woods to a farm about 45 minutes away. We were a little surprised by how small it was but we found a tree. Year two we went to a farm much closer and far more Charlie Brown. This year we came to the realization that in Illinois they grow corn and soy beans, not evergreen trees - at least if you live south of I-80. (For all you east coasters, there is Chicagoland and there is south of 80. It's very comparable to NYC and Upstate.) Several people told me that they have farms around where you can get a nice tree but I haven't seen them. Maybe if we went west - at least they have trees in the wild. In the mean time, I fear that we have been spoiled by knowing real trees. Nice trees. Pretty trees. Full trees.

So we were left with the following options: 1) Charlie Brown tree farm 2)Pre-cut from Wisconsin 6 weeks ago 3)Fake. Those aren't italics. That's me shuddering. This created a need to analyze how I felt about plastic (and I choose paper at the grocery store). Cons: No pine smell, no family event (and Tim won't remember the previous trips), fake. Pros: Straight "trunk", pre-lit that only comes in white, no complaining about itchy eyes and sneezing for 3 weeks, not cold, will pay for itself if we keep it for 2 decades or so, no need to find a day on the calendar when we have more that 2 hours together.

So I caved. Tim and I went and bought an artificial tree last week. It could have been a family outing but the finding 2 hours together criteria has been challenging the last couple weeks. It was fairly painless. I didn't break out in hives, though Tim had a minor meltdown unrelated to the tree but directly tied to his hatred of shopping. It was a little easier to make it stand than to erect a live tree. The lights were way harder to connect than they should have been. And I have to admit that it doesn't look bad after a little fanning of the branches.

Old Enough To Enjoy the Snow

Apples and Trees

7 years ago, we attended a family reunion. Most of Andy's Mom's family gathered at a ski lodge in Vermont over the Fourth of July. Some came early. Some came late. But I think everyone's stay overlapped. It was fun. We generally only see these people at weddings and funerals so it was nice that there was no real pressure for anyone once we all arrived.

Andy is one of 14 cousins on that branch of the family. It was a long time ago, but many of those cousins had their own families. I would guess that there were about 20 children in attendance, the oldest being no more than 10. (In case you are wondering, my last count has the little ones at 29 but my information isn't always current!) Anyway, with that many people, you are bound to find someone with whom you get along.

Drew encountered a cousin (for lack of a better term) with whom he could see eye to eye. The boys were playing baseball with the dad of said cousin. It was really more like catch. The adult reminded them that they needed to hold their hands out so that the ball wouldn't hit them in the tummy. One of the boys corrected him, "It's not a tummy, it's a stomach." I think it was mine, but I can't remember for sure. The ensuing conversation led me to believe that this was a typical comment from either 4 year old.

I was reminded of this episode the other day by Tim.

I was trying to convince Tim that story time was a fun and worthy excursion. He's been to story time tons of times but not consistently or recently. I reminded him that we sit on the floor together and he gets to choose a carpet square. We listen and it is fun. For about 15 seconds he was silent. I could see his doubtful expression. Why trade a sure thing like TV and video games for the chancy story time? What if the stories are about basket weaving? Or what to wear to a wedding? Or why you should eat anything besides PB&J? Then he looked at me and in all seriousness, mixed with a touch of outrage, said, "They are rectangles."

So now I'm wondering if perhaps there is some genetic trait that makes these kids so particular about their vocabulary. And if so, which branch is responsible for these apples.

It's Here

At the rate I have been blogging, you should probably not read this all at once. Maybe you want to pick a paragraph per day for sustained reading enjoyment. Maybe someday I'll get dedicated enough to just cut and paste a portion so I post each day. But until that time...

It's here! Today finally came! No, not the middle school band concert, although I'm sure that will be swell, too. 24 Season 6! Netflix has it all queued up and it should arrive in my mailbox today! See, once we started, we couldn't stop. And then that fateful day came when we had seen them all. We did not appreciate that we should have been TIVOing last season to save for later. So it's all new to us. DON'T TELL US WHAT HAPPENS!!!! Drew is psyched, too. We figure that we'll be finished well before Christmas. Two blissful weeks on the couch watching the bodies fall. Umm... 24... (Said with my best Homer Simpson impersonation.) Can't wait until the band concert is over so I can start watching! I'll try my best not to watch all by myself this afternoon and then sit through it with Drew and Andy pretending that I don't know what is going to happen.

In other news... Last weekend ended up being very quiet and enjoyable. We had a little ice on Saturday and rain on Sunday so we stayed home. We decorated Friday, except for the tree. That is because the tree is about as available as our Christmas cards - which is not at all. We made cut out Christmas cookies on Saturday. I was reminded that there is an inverse relationship between the age of the baker and the amount of sprinkles applied to a cookie. Sunday the kids munched cookies and drank hot chocolate by the fire while watching The Polar Express. We won't tell them that it was 57*. By the time the movie ended the front had passed through and it was 39*.

This weekend I made the worst culinary mistake of my life. Thankfully, it was nothing life threatening. I'm not a very good cook. I'm impatient and get in trouble when I try to speed up the process. Grilled sandwiches almost always involve scraping the blackened bread crumbs into the sink before serving them anyway. (In my defense, it is easier to use a smaller frying pan then to try to get the griddle to a consistent temperature across 2 burners.) So I was quite smug about the state of the grilled cheese that I was making for Andy on Sunday. It was heating slowly and turning a nice golden brown. He stepped in to check on the sandwich. He's been around for a long time now so he knows to be wary. When he lifted it to inspect the bottom, he came away with just the top slice of bread. How does this happen when melted cheese is sticky? Well, when you don't put the cheese on the sandwich. And yes, it was just a straight grilled cheese. It's not like I forgot one ingredient of many. I made a sandwich that consisted of just bread. You would think someone would be motivated enough to step up and take over the culinary responsibilities. But no.

Sunday afternoon we watched the Giants. Wow, they are hard to watch. Painful! With 7 minutes left in the game, Drew asked if he had to ride the bus on Monday. (Lots of Bear fans in this neck of the woods.) Luckily it all turned out OK. Off they went on the bus donning all their Giants gear. However, ALL the Bears fans are CERTAIN that the last touchdown pass hit the ground.

Toward the end of last week I got inspired to rearrange the furniture. I pondered it all weekend and had to move things yesterday. It wasn't a one room operation. I shuffled the office, living room and family room. It also involved swapping out some items for other treasures in the basement. Note to self: Move heavy furniture when there is someone to help who is older and stronger than an almost 3 year old. Any idea how heavy a 4 1/2 foot upright piano is? Me either, but dang heavy is my answer. Heavier than anyone should attempt to move by herself. I could feel the stiffness setting in before the kids got home from school. However, I'm happy with the results. The office is more office like. The piano is in the living room. I traded the seating in the family room and living room. (I did wait to move the large couches until Andy got home because one of them needs to be turned on it's side to fit through the doorway. Now I want to paint. We haven't done that in the 2 1/2 years we've been here. I like the yellow that we moved into but who uses flat paint!? Yes, I like the look but I have 4 kids. They think about the walls and it leaves dirt. They look at the walls and it leaves dirt. They walk past the walls and it leaves dirt. They don't even notice the walls and it leaves dirt. Every piece of furniture that brushes against the walls leaves dirt. And when you scrub it, the paint rubs off but you can still see the dirt. But painting is for another day. I don't think I could lift a paint brush over my head today and the living room and dining room are like 12 feet high. I'll post pictures when I finish.