Trees up. Balls up.

Note for future. 5pm on a Friday at the end of a long week is not a great time to get your tree on. But we did anyway. This tall beauty came from Thomas Dux, where the nice man Ben happily carried it 3 blocks to our car.

Mr. Woog got home, rolled his eyes and began untangling metres of fairy lights. Any excuse to fiddle near my bush I say.

And what a full bush it is!


Lights were draped and then the big dusty box was pulled out of the garage. Our house was immediately stinking up in the way only a fresh cut pine tree can stick up a house. Which was glorious.

We are not designer, fancy tree people. We are realistically the other way inclined without limitations. Our collection of ornaments stem from fancy to really, really lame. Like one which is just a circle of paper with the word JACK written on it. INNOVATION.

Once the lights were in and we were all assured that no-one was going to get a little electrical buzz from touching them, it was ON FOR YOUNG AND OLD……


All was going well, and we had a little Bing Crosby happening in the background and all that was missing some sort of revolting egg-noggy type beverage….

Sitting quietly, wondering what the fuck was going on, was Chuy. This is only his second Christmas, and like many 2 year olds, he was brewing up a tantrum.


Which ended in a lightening streak across the room, a swift and particularly violent assault on the tree and of course, a casualty.


He really doesn’t mean to be an asshole. Really, he doesn’t. But now we are faced with the added dilemma of having to keep the tree and the cat in separate rooms.

We will never be “that” lovely, fresh, sensible, thoughtful, fully clothed, designer-y, non eye rolling family in the Christmas Catalogues. Ever. We are not programmed that way around here.

What about you?
Tree up yet? Full bush?
Incident free?
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