Growing up, my family religiously hunted our Christmas tree on the day after Thanksgiving. We did not go without any member (and usually my grandma), dressed festively, and drove down the road from our cabin (where we had stayed for Thanksgiving). There was a small sign on white poster board alerting the public "Trees for Sale" and after you cut down your tree, you drove back up to the house, pointed to the area of the field the tree was found, and then payed a very fair price.

My family hit the field, spreading out different directions to find the "perfect" tree. The criteria for each of us was different. I wanted 'big'. My mom wanted one with 'holes' to put her big ornaments in the tree. My dad wanted a 'great shape'. And my brother could never remember where the one he picked was located, so his choices were out of the running. We would finally agree after each contestant had been argued and dad would lay down on the ground and cut down the chosen one with a hand saw. Then, we would pose around our tree and snap our family Christmas card picture. The ride home was filled with "I'm really glad we got that tree" "it's going to look great", "what a great tree". Very Clark Griswold.

In sharp contrast, this is how my family's tree selection went: On my way home from the doctor with Lilah today (why do I always seem to start sentences this way?), I pulled through Mayo Garden center, and had them tie a tree I had not even seen unfolded on the top of my van, while it was still running. Since they charged what it must cost to replant 100 trees, I figured it must be decent. And then, being the loving, patient mother that I am, and wanting them to really 'soak in' the festivities of Christmas....I decorated it by myself after the kids were asleep.:)