Go turn on my tree

SEASONALLY INAPPROPRIATE, but who's keeping track?



My mother has a similar obsession with Christmas trees. Every year she becomes unreasonably attached to the idea of the perfect tree. The woman can point out a tree's bare patches like none other. We all stand around at the tree place while she has our tree attendant and/or my father shake the tree's branches free, then walk it in a circle so she can take a good look. Despite her best efforts, once the tree opens, there's usually lopsided patch anyway, which we have to hide with the bigger ornaments.

Every year, my parents fail to account for our enormous tree stand and inevitably wind up buying a tree that is at least six inches too tall. Turning the tree upright always scrapes the ceiling, which leads to a bout of muttered cursing by my father -- usually of my mother, who insisted that a smaller tree would be diminuative in our GIANT CONNECTICUT HOME. He then has to chop the top foot off the tree in order to affix the star at the top.