I didn’t JUST watch Harry Potter and Hitchcock movies over the weekend. Friday afternoon I headed out with my mother to purchase their Christmas tree. Part of the Christmas ritual for many of my 6th grade through college years was ordering the tree online and then taking it out of the Fedex box (before you ask, they live down the road from an actual cut-your-own Christmas tree farm that we have never gotten a tree from–“Lyme disease” my mother would argue).
Sometime after I graduated high school, my father threw a huge shit fit, though, about how ridiculous it was to order a tree so we went to a tree lot where he proceeded to continue throwing a shit fit and be incredibly, horrifyingly embarrassing.
The following year we were back to ordering online.
This time, my mom and I went to the lot by the supermarket. The trick to a successful tree shopping experience (and why my mother loves me most) is to let her tell you what tree she wants and then gently nudge her towards that tree. It requires finesse, skill, and attention to detail. Patience is also required when she goes on her 45 minute diatribe about how trees don’t smell anymore and they’re all genetically engineered to be so full and uniform in shape. Ah, the magic of the holidays.