tree hugger

It happened:

I bought my first-ever, very own Christmas tree yesterday.

It's cheap, it's short as Christmas trees go (6 feet, which is taller than I am, which is all I cared about ...), and as I was "fluffing" the branches, one broke off in my hands, so I'm off to a good start for something made in China with a "limited" (read: useless) warranty ...

I was so excited that I hugged the box before I unpacked it. And I did the happy, clappy dance after it was set up. "Giddy" is not an adequate descriptor. "Special" might be a better fit ...

There it stands at my living room window, sandwiched between my houseplants and even more houseplants, plastic and green and bristly and as yet unlit, a symbol of something about me that has graduated from the tiny tabletop tree that's been over-laden with ornaments these past few years. I had to prop that one against a wall last year to keep it from toppling to the floor on a daily basis. We'll see how Mr. Breakable Branches fares this year.

The red curtains are up, too, Manheim Steamroller is in the CD player, and smell-pretty candles dot the apartment.

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas at the Casa Sarah.