December 02, 2003~~10:35 p.m.
Douglas
You know you are a family when you get your first Christmas tree. That, is, unless you are Jewish. Omar and I bought our first Christmas tree last Sunday. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do beings that it was the weekend after Thanksgiving and it was sort of misty and overcast outside--the perfect weather for egg nog, some carols on the jukebox and a baby playing merrily on the floor whilst you adorn your tree with festive ornaments to celebrate the season. Ahh. If only it could be. Let me just say that Norman Rockwell would most certainly not be proud of the scene that played itself out at our house last weekend. I should have known how things would pan out when Omar said that he wanted a tree topper that was a star with a light inside of it. Incredulous, I stared at him, mouth agape. I could not believe that he actually wanted something so garish for our tree. In fact, I told him, I wasn�t even sure you could find something like that for sale because it was unlikely that anyone would manufacture something so tacky. That was the first sign. Then we were off to buy our tree. First of all, it would have been quite romantic to bundle up our four-month-old and take out the Xterra into the hills to cut our very own first tree. We could have burrowed Elizabeth into a little snowsuit and taken her Christmas card picture whilst the snowflakes drifted gently around her. Instead, we piled into the Xterra and drove across the street to the Home Depot at around noon. First Omar whined that I took too long getting ready and that I didn�t need makeup to go to Home Depot. (The latter may well have been true, however, I had other plans for the day that he did not know about. Ahem.) So we pulled into the tree lot and began our search for the perfect Christmas tree. It was a short search. There were hardly any trees leftover from the weekend and we were on a budget. We went straight for the cheapest trees and there were only about five to choose from. Much like a wedding dress, the first one we saw ended up being �the One.� In purchasing said tree (I call him Douglas) we accomplished a task that can only be described as rescuing a tree from the tree pound. Douglas is not the most beautiful tree in the world, but we don�t say that around him. He has a few scraggly branches at the bottom that are sort of unsightly and then there is the almost one-third of him that is sort of patchy and mangy. We think he was abused by his former owner, possibly even chained to a warehouse for a time. It is obvious that on one side of his trunk grows a more full �coat� than the other, if you will. But the moment I saw him, I told Omar that he was the tree for us. We sort of wandered around the tree lot for a few more minutes, as if to obligingly look at the other trees for sale. When I saw two other people looking Douglas over, I felt a bit territorial, and I knew that if we didn�t take him home with us, his fate would be undetermined and I simply couldn�t bear it. One of the Home Depot workers mentioned that they would be getting a new shipment of over 700 trees in the next day, but I didn�t want to wait and anyway, Douglas was meant for us. So the tree was tied down on top of the Xterra in a hasty fashion, since Omar was in a hurry to get home and study. We drove the .03 miles back to our house and unloaded Douglas into the house. And then, there Douglas sat. For two days. There was no egg nog. Omar doesn�t like Egg nog. There were no Christmas carols. We don�t have any Christmas cd�s OR a jukebox. There was no baby playing merrily on the floor. Elizabeth, although often merry, was not in a floor-playing mood that day. There were no festive ornaments with which to adorn our tree. Omar doesn�t have any ornaments and all of mine are awaiting transplant from my parents� storage shed. Luckily, I saved the day, and Douglas�s feelings, by going straight to Cost Plus for some decorative ribbon and glass balls to tide us over until I can retrieve my zillions of violin, angel, and angels playing violins ornaments from home. Until then, we�ll just have to admire Douglas� �less is more� look. And I think he looks right nice.
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