Oh Christmas Tree

From: http://dsharp.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54eeecc2f883401053687d2e3970b-350w

     The day we bought our tree and brought it home--sometime in very early December--was a pretty, wintry day. One of those bustling early holiday shopping days, lots of Chicago traffic, lots of things to do, crowds to fight. We brought it home and realized it was the biggest tree we had ever had since moving to Chicago. It towered over me, reaching approximately 5 feet and 4 inches into the air. We filled it with green lights, handmade ornaments, and decorations made and gathered throughout the years. It was one of those moments that you remember slowly, dreamily. I knew it would form an important part of the bundle of memories that will follow my children into adulthood.

Flash forward one month. I finally took the thing down. Lacking the foresight that usually fails me every year at this time, I had no "tree bag." Remember, its 64 inches out-heighted me by an embarrassingly handful of centimeters, and its extremely dry state made it decidedly painful to touch. I grabbed it by its sappy trunk and managed to drag it through our apartment.

If you're not familiar with the typical Chicago layout, the apartments are long and narrow. Very long, as a matter of fact. I dragged it through the living room, the dining room, down the hallway, through the kitchen, out through the back door to the porch that doubles as a play room, and down the long winding staircase.

I went about it all the wrong way. I was carrying it top first, which set me up for some humorous but messy jams in doorways, around corners. There was a lot of carnage: two broken lamps, an avalanche of junk I was injudiciously storing on the back stairs. By the time I made it to the first floor, it became surprisingly easy to manage. I later realized that this was because I lost approximately 45% of its bulk on the way down.

 Now, Dyson manufactures a spectacular vacuum machine, but it can't handle the quantity of pine needles left behind in my home. I am, in fact, still pulling little green pokers out of my clothing, my waistband, my underwear (!). I carried out an entire paper grocery bag full of the sharp vestiges of our holiday celebration.

One and one half hours later, I am just now finishing the clean-up required of this monumental effort. The children were horrified. I grunted and swore and jammed that tannenbaum down the stairs and out into the garden. The better half of me has myself convinced it is there waiting for the city-wide tree recycling day. The truth of the matter is that I'm not sure how I'm going to get it there. I might have to hoist it on my head and walk it to its final destination.

In the aftermath--the girls left with their mouths hanging open, feeling the joy of the holiday season slipping quickly through their fingertips-- I started drumming up interest in Valentine's Day. Hearts to decorate and hang, valentine cards to make, glitter to sprinkle, doilies to cut. Let's just say that we are dreaming of February now, over here on Thomas Street.