As a kid, it was my job every year to assemble the plastic Christmas tree. I was also in charge of decorating it, baking cookies, being excited about the yearly broadcast of Ruldoph on TV, and ignoring my father when he got inexplicably pouty and demanded that nobody buy him any presents.
Now, as an adult, our Christmases are extremely quiet affairs, and though I don’t actually take much delight in sacrificing a live tree once a year to appease whoever it is we’re appeasing (my husband’s ancestors?), I still enjoy the process of putting it up, plugging in the lights every morning, smelling it occasionally, taking it down, and then finding stray pine needles in my shoes for the next six months.
Music: “Linus and Lucy” by Vince Guaraldi