I absolutely adore the holiday season! Mistletoe, wreaths, Christmas cookies, noble fir, tree decorating, Christmas music and caroling, holiday parties, special moments with friends and family. In lonely years past, Christmas was more of a forlornness. An emptiness in my gut that I was certain could never be filled. Certainly, I had family and friends, but it was still vacuous. A wintry moment of my existence, until my Shane enters stage right.
I thought this year we'd punctually receive the holiday season. It was the first weekend of December and we're up at seven thirty am. Well, I was up at seven o'clock, but that doesn't count, because I'm just one hundred percent strange. We quickly scarfed a bowl of cereal and we made haste to Home Depot to purchase our Christmas tree. Home Depot you ask? Yes, Home Depot, you minions. Why pay startling prices for trees that are just as beautiful for a price that doesn't give you irritable bowel syndrome. As we rolled into the parking lot, it seemed many others had the same genius idea as we did. The wrath of impatience rumbled the honking of horns as experienced oblivious car drivers, Asians, drove with such cluelessness. Shane, who usually possesses the patience of a tortoise, began to squib such harsh words towards the preceding driver. I, on the other hand, was filled with the holiday spirit, scolded him to embrace the holiday kindness. He would not have any of my holiday blurb. The curse of scrooge had taken over my sweet husband of mine.
Shane had derived some deviant plan to get us in and out quickly, "Now remember quickly head towards the nobles, grab the one we want and head for the cashier line. Make it quick honey don't get distracted. We're going to bypass all those suckers who are getting the bottoms of the trees trimmed." Shane was proud that he had a chainsaw in our garage, therefore saving us the headache of the suckers who didn't have one at home. There in the far right aisle of all the madness stood this majestic nine feet whopper all by it's lonesome. That was it. That was the one. That was our baby. I made way to it's green magnetism luring me into it's sweet song. "Honey, that is way too big for our living room! There would be no room for the star." Shane shook me out of my daze and walked right past it towards the seven to eight feet firs. The smell of Christmas trees was nostalgic. It's magical. It's enlightening. Shane grabbed a tree that was wound up with string, "This is the one." His hands steady and sure. I, on the other hand, did not have the foresight for something wrapped tight. We cut the string in MacGyver fashion with our car keys. There it stood perfect full from bottom to top. I smiled and nodded my head, "Now your going to have to steer me in the right direction, because I can't see anything." He placed the vast monster on his shoulders. Personally, I don't like being responsible for another's sight or direction. Basically, I prefer not to be accountable, if possible.
"When's junior due?" The cashier inquired with his gray crow bar moustache.
"May 9th." I smiled, but I deliberately worn a large baby doll blouse to conceal Kitchstar from the world. No such luck.
"Boy or girl?" He stared at Shane and me.
"We're going old school sir, we're not finding out." I was proud to reveal that some people still believe in Santa Clause.
"Well, that's the way it ought to be. Good luck to little junior and have a happy holiday." The gentle moustache friend wished us adieu.
We walked towards the truck as the nostalgic fragrance of yesterday faded the closer we got to our truck. My heart oozed warmth as we embraced the holidays in an early fashion. For the first time, Kitchstar was evident and I could care less about my bloated condition. This was a very memorable holiday season. I'm about to embark on a life time adventure with Shane and Kitchstar. That is what holidays are all about. Family.
Lesson: A wise grasshopper must remember that pork dumpling do not grow on trees.
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