The Freelance Retort: That Time of Year Again!

In keeping with our list of mandated Holiday Traditions, I managed to get the outside lights and decorations up this week without breaking anything…on the house or me.

I’ve learned over the years that stepping back from the ladder to admire your work is not smart…at least until you’ve climbed back down.

So, now, in checking our list—twice—we’re off to buy our Christmas tree tomorrow.

I should say we’re off to scour the woods for and buy our Christmas tree tomorrow.

Well, not really woods…it’s more of a farm…of trees…located in the surrounding woods.

Accuracy is important…especially with lists…particularly Holiday Tradition lists.

Sometimes….

I’ve written about this, our annual tree pilgrimage into the Connecticut woods, in the past (“To the Woods!”), so I’ll skip all the atmospheric, holiday details since not a lot changes from year to year, other than the weather.

It’s one of those signature yearly outings that we still look forward to, and hopefully always will.

We enthusiastically awake, early in the morning, say, “We can’t believe it’s that time of year again, already”…check the weather to determine how many layers of woolies to put on or not put on…say, “We can’t believe it’s that time of year again, already”…gobble down a quick cup of coffee with maybe some cereal or a bagel… say, “We can’t believe it’s that time of year again, already”…dig through the shed in search of the large tree saw, which we use to cut down, you know…small trees… say, “We can’t believe it’s that time of year again, already”…jump into the car and…jump back out to run back into the house to retrieve the iPod that we loaded up with festive Holiday tunes, the night before… say, “We can’t believe it’s that time of year again, already”…until finally, we hit the highway…or in this case the parkway—accuracy—where we say…“Damn, we can’t believe we forgot to get gas again, already".

What….you thought we would say something else?

Before long, after a short, festive inter-state jaunt, we’re pulling onto the farm, driving past a field of baby trees, just barely sprouting through the tall, yellowed grass and someone—not saying who— invariably make the same annual lame comment, “Look there’s our tree!”

To which we fall into a hysterical reverie followed by Z giving me that icy glare, I’ve come to know so well, that says… “Do you really have to make that same lame comment EVERY year?”

To which I reply…“I can’t believe it’s that time of year again…already!”

Which is the basis of all great holiday traditions.

Another of which is the togetherness that the annual tree hunt entails. These days, Z and I usually decide to forgo the hay ride up the hill, even if I were allowed on the wagon, again— tree farmers apparently have long memories—so we make the idyllic climb into the woods on foot, side by side.

There, we begin an orderly search down row after row of balsamy jewels, in search, of course, for that one perfect tree destined to reside in our little living room, next to our spooky fireplace. It’s out there, we both know, and it’s just a matter of time before it finds us.

Like all things Zen, after a while, one must follow where the trees take one, so we’ll both drift off on our own journey, down this row of evergreens, up this hill and over Dale—who is usually passed out by the warming shack—again, never losing focus.

Of course this kind of intensity often results in “one’s” wandering onto the neighboring property, wondering why there are so many chickens on a tree farm, and why that fellow behind the tree is smiling like that?

Just friendly folk up this way, I guess.

But not to worry, “one” is never lost for long…not since I found Z’s cell phone number, written in lipstick on that waiters hand. I can usually dial her up and track her down…eventually...once she picks up

And to be honest, that’s a good thing, for both of us. While Z is usually the one who finds the perfect tree, I’m the designated tree cutter, since Z also finds it unsavory to lie in the mud—and sometimes snow.

So again…it’s just goes to show how that whole togetherness/Yin-Yang thing, works out…especially during the holidays

Soon, the tree is cut and hauled down the hill; the hot chocolates and semi-frozen donuts have been consumed; the big Ox has farted in our faces and before we know it, we find ourselves rolling down the parkway, again, back toward home, where we say,"We can’t believe it’s that time of year again, already”…and then we remember…we forgot to retrieve the tree from the tree wrapping area….

Gotta love Holiday Traditions!

Believe it or not…..