Sunday, January 23, 2011
Fast forward eight years and there is a three year old and and eight month old in the picture and we were faced with the difficult decision of going "fake". This was a nearly criminal consideration for two demented elves like the hubs and I, so we set about the process of searching for the perfect artificial tree.
After an exhaustive search, we plunked down an obscene amount of money on what promised to be a remarkably lifelike fake tree. When it arrived in its giant box we looked upon it with a mix of skepticism and sadness as it marked the official end of the days of the glorious, pine scented, real tree.
When we opened the box, the contents looked less than promising. Threre were three dark green tree sections , each with its branches squished down against the trunk. It looked more like something that had been run over than a woodland masterpiece. My husband reassured me that once we fluffed out the branches, this would be a great looking tree. I wasn't sure if he was trying to convince me or himself, but I breathed a heavy sigh, and we went about the business of unfurling the branches.
The tree had what seemed like 50 or so limbs, each of which had close to the same amount of iindividual, finger like branches. Each of those branches had to be bent open. We had started on the process of opening up the branches at about 11:00 am. When dinner time rolled around and we were still unfolding, sustaining bleeding cuts and scratches up and down our arms, we wondered whether we had made a tremendous and costly mistake.
Walking away from the tree to eat dinner gave us time to step back and think about our approach to the tree and when we returned to it, our zoomed out view provided us with a glimpse of what this tree could be. The side of the tree that we had been focusing on was beautiful, lush and looked surprisingly real. Over the next day and a half, we finished opening the branches, until what stood before us was an impressively full and natural looking tree. We on the other hand, were less than impressive looking. Our fingers, arms and legs were scratched, bleeding and bandaged.
Posted by Diary of a Mad Bathroom at 2:20 PM