Jenny's blog Gray Hairs and Teddy Bears got me thinking about Christmas trees. Jenny has a "live" tree that is already drooping and dropping needles. One of her readers pointed out that it was probably cut back in October, stored in a refrigerated truck, then put out for sale in late November. It doesn't take a botanist to figure out what is causing her tree to wilt so quickly.

For the past three years, we have had a fake tree. I really dislike fake trees. They just look......fake. Even the high quality ones look like oversized pipe cleaners sticking out of a central pole. I resisted as long as possible, but what did it for me was the idea of being 7 1/2 months pregnant, on all fours trying to water the Christmas tree, with the dog poking his nose where it doesn't belong. I bought a fake one at Lowe's. Pre-lit.

As soon as is humanly possible for me, I'm going to start getting real trees again, and hopefully by that time, Orange Countians will still be able to find live trees to cut. Because, you see, the best kind of live tree is one that is fresh cut. Going to pick out the Christmas tree was a family activity on the day after Thanksgiving. That's the first day you could go reserve them and get a good one.

We would trek out in the Ford de jour to a local place, under the high wires most likely, pull into the mud and gravel parking lot, then walk out into the stands of trees. Close to the parking lot there always seemed to be a forest in miniature with pine saplings no more than two feet high just dreaming of their future in someone's living room. We liked Monterrey Pines. Their long needles are soft and lush and fairly easy to hang ornaments on, they are hardy and homey.

The chill of the air, the smell of the pine needles and sap, the squish of mud beneath our tennies...these are all great memories to me. It seemed we would spend a long time finding a tree that didn't lean too much to one side or the other, didn't have a hole in one side, or didn't lack the lovely a-line shape of the perfect Christmas tree. We'd circle two or three, my mom viewing all angles. Our living room set up demanded that the tree be attractive from all sides; we couldn't just stick the hole in a corner. Finally we'd settle on one, tear the ticket and go pay for it. It was ours!

Two weeks before Christmas, we went back and had our tree cut, and that is a great bunch of smells too. There's the pine sap, sawdust, gas from the chain saw, and the sweat of the young bucks working there. My parents liked the tree flocked, I suppose as a tribute to their Eastern US upbringings. It took me a long time to connect that the flocking was supposed to simulate snow. I didn't care for the flocking much because it was sticky, smelled weird and I thought it didn't look natural. Most tree farms would flock the tree for us, and the back of the Ford de jour would be lined with an old sheet to keep the flocking from sticking. Some years my dad flocked the tree himself. That might have been the years we grew our own trees.

Dad ran wires from the tree trunk to the bannister to keep the tree from tipping over, and we draped the tree stand with foil then a white sheet. Once it was set up, it was time to get into the crawl space and pull back the dusty plastic sheets that covered luggage and the boxes of Christmas decorations. The boxes were what you'd expect - old shipping boxes, May Co. or Broadway boxes - with all our precious decorations stored within for 11 months of the year. I can still remember the dusty plastic smell and my poor sister sneezing from it. My sister and I, along with my mother would carry them down to the living room and set them out for excavation. Dad would put on the lights (old school ones with the star reflectors) and Mom would put on the three long strands of glass bead garland (red, white and blue). Then my sister and I would reverently decorate the tree.

Once the family project was finished, we knew we had the perfect tree.

For about a minute of my life, in the 5th grade, my best gal pal was named Patrice. I don't recall now what her last name was. She wanted to be called 'Trice, but her mom always called her by her full name. She was a girl raised by parents who were older, and I realize now they were probably alcoholics and they were certainly heavy smokers. But for me, Patrice was fun. We were both awkward socially and so, we bonded on that point. She had a cute fluffy little white dog that might have been a poodle or a cockapoo. I used to walk or ride my skate board to her house, which was a little over a mile from mine. She must have been smart because I think she was in the advanced class with me. I didn't have many other close friends at that school, so I can't think of any other way I could have met her.

Being smart did not preclude a questionable childhood surrounded by weird friends of her parents and did not necessarily include a financially stable life. Patrice lived in an unincorporated part of Santa Ana, just behind a fronting of little houses built in the 40s or 50s. Back there, they could still have horses though, and it was like stepping into a rural retreat once you rounded the corner to her street. It's hard to imagine today there being stables in the middle of a Santa Ana neighborhood, even lots with a house and a stable, with actual horses and chickens, but it's true. It was a quiet, dark and shady place with large trees, that smelled like soil and horses, manure and car oil. There's a garish church that was built where a little home with a white board fence once had been. It had acted as a sort of gateway or mile marker into that forgotten little corner of town. The church is hideous, in my opinion, but the little home was a ramshackle abandoned wreck by the time it was torn down, so it's likely the better of the two abodes.

To help out the family, Patrice wandered around town collecting bottles. Eventually they turned them in at the liquor store for cash, or maybe liquor. I don't know. Looking back I don't know really what drew me to her. I found a picture of her recently and it reminded me she was boy crazy and wanted to grow up fast and get out of her house. She was the type of girl I'm sure my parents dreaded I would turn into.

One thing she did teach me about during our brief friendship was that bottles were worth money - maybe it was 5 cents per bottle. I had never even considered this type of a transaction before knowing this girl. Some hot days, if we didn't have much to do, and Patrice had already collected "enough" bottles for her family, we would go scrounge bottles until we came up with enough for two cones of ice cream from Thrifty Drug Store over on Harbor Blvd. It was near the Zody's - a store I never went in for some reason. Anyway, to this day, I can remember collecting those bottles...the smell of the warm day on a part of town that was not shiney and clean, the sun on my neck, the weight of the bag with the bottles in it, and the stink of the icky guy at the liquor store who changed them out for us...but even more, the taste of that mint chip ice cream. Sigh...... Pure heaven!

Yes, today is my birthday. I'm not terribly happy about it, so we'll just say that I am 39 and holding. Dad told me that last night, he and Melody had a lengthy conversation about gifts - although in the context of Christmas gifts. He asked Melody what she was getting for various people in our family for Christmas, and this will give you an idea of how the conversation went.

Dad: What are you getting Mommy for Christmas?

Melody: A lamp.

Dad: What are you getting Daddy for Christmas?

Melody: A book.

Dad: What are you getting Grandma Marie for Christmas?

Melody: A picture.

Dad: A picture of what?

Melody: A picture of a lamp.

Dad: What are you getting Grandma Alice for Christmas?

Melody: A picture.

Dad: A picture of what?

Melody: A picture of the ceiling!

It goes on from there. I'm happy I'll be getting a lamp, heh. Here's another funny conversation that took place between me and Melody recently.

Melody: Why doesn't my Ted (bear) talk?

Mom: Well, he can't, he's a Ted.

Melody: Does he need his batteries changed?

Mom: No, he doesn't have batteries.

Melody: What's inside him?

Mom: Stuffing.

Melody: What's inside my Hannah Montana pillow?

Mom: Stuffing.

Melody: What's inside my other pillow?

Mom: Stuffing.

Melody: What's inside...(getting that look in her eyes)...you head?

Mom: Uh oh, you are getting your daddy's sense of humor aren't you? My brain, little gal...

As far as I'm concerned, Christmas season doesn't start until I listen to Handel's Messiah in its entirety, and specifically, the chorus "And Unto Us A Child Is Born." Today, for me, marks the official opening of the season. Enjoy and be uplifted!

November passed quickly and there were a number of events I had intended to post about but never found the time. Here's a brief wrap up of our month.

November 9th, John and I celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary. Our tradition is to return to PJ's Abbey where we were married, and enjoy dinner. We did so again this year and I had nearly the same thing for dinner as we had on our wedding day. The atmosphere is gorgeous at PJ's. The high ceilings, arching stained glass window, and the history of over 100 years all fill me with a deep sense of love and comfort. For many years, the building was the Antioch Baptist Church. You can imagine the many people who worshipped there, wedded there, and held their funerals there. To have joined our lives in a building filled with emotions only strengthens my convictions that we are truly blessed to be together. And that we had The. Best. Wedding. Ever.

We baked in honor of a departed soldier, Rob Sanchez. That was such an emotional experience that I don't think I'll bake in memorium again. This round we signed up to bake for Ray Acosta, stationed in Okinawa. Ray and his wife just had a baby and they miss the States very very much. We will bake some Christmas treats and include other fun things like candy canes and M&Ms. I would love to send some frosted chewies, and since he's not in the desert, I might just do so!

Papa endured hip replacement surgery and Melody and I visited him in the hospital and in the rehab center. We actually went to see him on Halloween, and Melody was dressed as Tinkerbell. Tinkerbell is Melody's new favorite movie. Her other new favorite movie is Up. And of course her old favorite movie is Cars. And Bolt. And Finding Nemo. Anyhow, Papa is doing a lot better now and we have visited him at home too.

I took Melody on my day off to a pizza party at my office. All I can say is that Melody demanded a piece of crust from my friend Laurie, and then looked like The Joker after she ate a cupcake with hot pink icing. My girl actually told me she wanted applesauce and not pizza. Somehow I think I might have done something right.

I'm in an ornament exchange with my girls from my pregnancy support group, and I found the most gorgeous glass butterfly and dragonfly to send. I liked them so much I got a set for myself. Just this past weekend, however, I found a much better gift. I wanted to send something that could only be gotten here, and while at Calico this past weekend, I found an ornament that looks like their school house, and it says Calico, of course. Perfect! Jackie I sure hope I didn't just ruin the surprise, lol.

We had Thanksgiving at our place again this year. I worried very much about the turkey defrosting completely, as in some years in the past, that dang turkey has been icy on the inside right up until the moment I put it in the oven. This year it was completely defrosted. I premade so much food and it all turned out great! My favorite side dish was the stuffing because I put sage sausage in it. Yummmmm! I also made a brand new dessert this year called Pavlova. My boss made this dish for us at the office a while back, and John and I fell in love with it! It's a meringue base, topped with whipped cream and fruit. I made meringues for the first time. I whipped cream for the first time, and I ate passion fruit for the first time. It was delicious and I can't wait to make it again.

We also got Melody's pictures for our Christmas cards. They turned out so cute, if I do say so myself. She was a little bit of a ham (surprise, right?) and played with everything she came in contact with, including props for Halloween, summer, sports, boys, etc. I decided that she would wear her great-grandmother's gold ring (on a chain) and a little silver bracelet I can remember wearing as a child to Sunday School. I don't know where it came from before that.

Finally, Calico this past weekend. Please check my other site Past Periods Press for the instructions on how to make a poppet. Between me, Pauline and Pauline's friend Laurel, we made and gave away nearly 80 poppets to little girls who came into the Lane House Museum. It was very cold that day, down into the 40s due to rain, and Melody was such a trooper. She didn't want to wear a shawl or even a hat, but I finally just tied a scarf over her head and she looked like a tiny babushka. Traffic was horrible coming home but in Dad's nice car, it was manageable.

Tonight we hung our first Christmas decorations - little ornaments that Melody made at day care. They are super cute! December looks to be shaping up just as busy as November. I'll try to post often, but if I miss a week it's because I'm focusing on my family. Today I learned of two people I have worked with for 12 years who passed away over the weekend, both to tragic and unexpected accidents. It puts the fragility of human life into perspective.

Why am I writing a blog when I could be snuggling up to my honey? See ya!