Oh Tannen Bomb

           It all started so innocently. I saw someone’s post that showed her storing her fully decorated, yet tightly wrapped, artificial Christmas tree in a closet. How much time and effort would this save? Gobs, right?

         Heck, I could do that! I ordered some industrial plastic wrap, then St. Bob and I tightly wrapped our decorated tree, pulling the plastic as tightly as a corset to make the tree thin enough, and tipped it over onto a mover's blanket, then wrapped it in a in a big blue tarp, and hobbled it down a hallway to a wonderful closet under the stairs.  We had to remove several hallway paintings along the way. 

         This is our original tree:    

                   Alas, too fat (the tree, not the doorway). I notice that people who store their trees this way have skinny trees. And probably not the glass ornaments I have.

What if we cut through a wall and make a gigantic, 5-foot wide doorway that’s about 7-feet tall, behind the sideboard?  We calculate this cost and realize it would be several thousand dollars.

What if we keep it wrapped, but get it out to the garage?  Won’t fit through laundry room doors, either. Also won’t fit through the bushes if we take it outside and in through the garage doors.

Entire experiment is a disaster. We leave poor, chubby tree on the floor, looking like a Grinch glitch, and go to bed. The next morning we cut the plastic off, remove every last ornament and embellishment, then take it apart as usual, and store it in sections in its box the garage. I carefully wrap all the ornaments and store them as well. Amazingly, only one glass soldier has bitten the dust.

          And now I’ve saved you trying this same thing. You’re welcome.

Watch my life hack Youtube Mom videos here—I promise none of them are about squishing a tree into a cupboard.

O Christmas Tree

          It’s no secret--  I go a little gaga over Christmas.  I’m not one of those “Wait until December” folks who cannot imagine buying gifts until then; I buy them all year and tuck them away.  I start humming Christmas songs at the first snap of cold weather, and yes, I decorate as soon as the last bit of Thanksgiving gravy is gulped down.  Sometimes sooner.  This is our Christmas tree this year:

          Okay, I do not want to be on Santa’s naughty list, so I will tell the truth: It’s just one of my trees.  Here’s a tabletop one:

          Here’s a kitchen one:

And here’s the dining room one:

          Maybe it’s the glitter and sparkle, maybe it’s the spirit of goodwill that’s in the air, maybe it’s the whole magical Santa bit, or maybe it’s—wait for it—the actual celebration of our Savior’s birth.  But I cannot wait to fill my home with the sounds, smells, and sights of Christmas.

          And, like many a misguided woman, I try to get my husband’s opinion on the little details.  Last week I said to St. Bob, “What do you think about hanging gingerbread men instead of sugar cookies this year, from the chandelier in the kitchen?”

          Immediately I can tell from the look in his eyes that he has no idea there have ever been sweets hanging from the light in the first place.  He thinks for a minute and then says, “So how does the panel work, exactly?”

          “What panel?” I say, rolling out the dough.

          “The panel of judges that comes over to evaluate your decorating.  Is it, like, four people, or five so they can break the tie in a vote?”

          And that is how you get on Santa’s naughty list.  Or at least my naughty list.  It’s a risky business, getting sarcastic with a woman who controls the cookie dough.

Get on Santa’s good list by purchasing one of my novels here.  Wait until you see the selection—there’s something for everyone!