Stopped at Corey's Sport Shop (used to be Corey's Gun shop, but we have to be politically correct now a days) to buy a Christmas tree. This year, instead of lashing said tree to roof of DeVille, I merely popped the trunk lid and stuffed the tree into the trunk. Drove home with a bungee cord keeping the trunk lid from flapping too wildly in the breeze. Deville showed the "Trunk Open" warning all the way home.
This Christmas we have improved upon past tradition. I now have a reciprocating saw with a pruning blade to cut the tree trunk and trim low flying branches. Used to do this with a hand saw, now we are mechanized. Placed the traditional green plastic trash bag on the floor, and adjusted tree stand to get him straight up.
Now the fun begins. First string the lights, including the infamous bubble lights that my mother has detested for 40 years. She thinks they are too plastic. Shake each bubble light to make it bubble again. Then, what's a Christmas tree without an electric train running around it?
Pull out the Hogwarts Express train set in bright red. Connect up the track, the power pack and sure nuff, it runs. Now the fun begins for the cat. She crouches on the floor, tail lashing back and forth, trying to summon up the courage to pounce on the moving train. But the train's confident whirring noise puts her off. Hours later, cat is still watching train intently, looking for a chance to pounce.
Then we invite my brother's family over to help with the rest of the trimmage. After doing beers, and a bit of stronger Christmas cheer, we are in the proper mellow mood. Glittery glass balls, santa clauses, candy canes, trumpets, and more. Cat is still watching the train. No attention deficit disorder in that cat. As the ornaments, and the beers finally run out, we declare the tree to be properly trimmed.
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