Over the weekend, my wife and I headed out in search of a Christmas tree. In recent years we settled on the convenience of The Home Depot, grabbing a tree on the way out of the store and hoping it would make it until Christmas day.
But this year, both of us were feeling a bit more in the spirit of things. So with temps nearing the 60 degree mark, we headed to Dave's Maine Christmas trees and wreaths, a roadside lot with a large selection of fresh Frazer Fir trees
Under the string of light bulbs we began our search for the perfect Christmas tree. And I got all sentimental, (when did this happen?), realizing that this would be the last Christmas with just the two of us at home. As a matter of fact, this year has been full of lasts. The last childless birthday, the last childless father’s day, the last childless anniversary, the last childless everything.
But something happened that I'm sure will not be a last. I managed to lodge my foot squarely in my mouth.
She pointed to her choice, a full tree that was $10 more than the ones I had selected. And then it happened, I called the tree fat and out of shape. But I didn’t stop there. In a complete lapse of judgment and an absence of sanity, I continued, calling the tree pregnant.
She shot me a disparaging look, her eyebrow raised as she put together my sentences.
“Is that what you think of me, fat and out of shape?”
Oh boy.
“No honey, I didn’t mean it like that….it must have been my angle, or the lighting….I actually think this tree is beautiful, it’s radiant…..a fine looking tree….it glows really, if you ask me....I’m going to go run out into traffic….”
After letting me suffer for a moment, she laughed it off, as she is an excellent sport. But still, I have to be more careful. (And for the record I don’t think my wife is fat and would never, ever say so if I did.)
Eventually w e picked the perfect tree. We loaded it up into the truck and brought it to our home to decorate, playing Christmas songs and kicking off our last childless Christmas together.
Under the string of light bulbs we began our search for the perfect Christmas tree. And I got all sentimental, (when did this happen?), realizing that this would be the last Christmas with just the two of us at home. As a matter of fact, this year has been full of lasts. The last childless birthday, the last childless father’s day, the last childless anniversary, the last childless everything.
But something happened that I'm sure will not be a last. I managed to lodge my foot squarely in my mouth.
She pointed to her choice, a full tree that was $10 more than the ones I had selected. And then it happened, I called the tree fat and out of shape. But I didn’t stop there. In a complete lapse of judgment and an absence of sanity, I continued, calling the tree pregnant.
She shot me a disparaging look, her eyebrow raised as she put together my sentences.
“Is that what you think of me, fat and out of shape?”
Oh boy.
“No honey, I didn’t mean it like that….it must have been my angle, or the lighting….I actually think this tree is beautiful, it’s radiant…..a fine looking tree….it glows really, if you ask me....I’m going to go run out into traffic….”
After letting me suffer for a moment, she laughed it off, as she is an excellent sport. But still, I have to be more careful. (And for the record I don’t think my wife is fat and would never, ever say so if I did.)
Afterwards, we sat back and enjoyed our beautiful tree, the colorful lights sparkling as they reflected off of our childhood ornaments. And I must say, the tree is a stunning, a glowing tree that lights up our house and warms my heart, just like my pregnant--but not by any means fat--wife.
