This morning, in an inane, displaced urbanite�s misguided attempt at embracing rural life, we cut our own Christmas tree. We were feeling the pressure. All our friends are doing it. And said friends actually get in the car and drive for hours to do so, whereas we, who live in the land of tree farms, were spending $75 to buy a pre-cut tree from the local Lion�s Club fundraiser every year. We were proud of ourselves for doing that for a while. We were supporting a local charitable venture, and we PUT THE TREE IN THE CAR OURSELVES. We owned a saw for cutting off the lower branches and because everyone who lives in the wilderness needs a saw (I think it�s in the village bylaws). We even brought our own twine.

When we lived downtown (carless), we actually had our tree delivered. It made us feel grownup and inept at the same time. We�d walk up to River North to the closest tree lot, pick out and pay for our tree and it would arrive magically in our loft the next morning.

Today, however, we had to go all Paul Bunyan on our tree and here is what we learned: If you�re cutting your tree yourself, do it on a cold day. This may sound counter-intuitive. �I�ll be walking in the woods for an hour or more trying to pick the perfect tree. A nice warm day sounds more pleasant,� you might say. You would be wrong, because the thing about tree farms is there is a lot of dirt and a lot of water and not a lot of pavement. When everything�s cold and frozen, it looks rustic and piney and all that makes for a nice hike in the woods. But when it warms up to, say, 44 degrees (today�s high temperature), then you have trouble. If by trouble you mean mud, that is. Mud up to your knees. Mud on every inch of your clothing. Mud in orifices where mud has no right to be. Hayrides through deep muddy ruts that AJ could disappear in.

You�d think that AJ, being a small boy, might have enjoyed the large muddy ruts. But AJ is not just any boy. AJ is unusually fastidious. He did NOT like the mud. He wanted to go home the second we got there. But he did eventually consent to searching for a tree and we found one and it is NOT covered in mud but is contentedly sucking up water from its new tree stand in the living room.

AJ is pleased with the tree, I think, although he�ll be happier when we get up the energy to put the lights on it. Instead of decorating, we spent the afternoon at our town�s annual Christmas Carnival, where AJ slid down a giant slide (�Look, Mommy! The sign says �Fun Slide.� That�s because it�s fun!�), went round and round on some flying swings, and even consented to sit next to the world�s most depressing (and possibly drunk) Santa for a moment, whispering in his ear, �I�d like a toy car for Christmas.� Afterwards he received two small candy canes in plastic wrappers. He carried them as if they were gold and refused to open them before he got home where he requested to eat both at once. And he did.

0 people said it like they meant it