323

It was a lovely weekend. We did family stuff instead of work and schoolwork. Ian and I even managed to go on a date.

Saturday morning we met Kelly and Ambrosia and Kelly’s mom, Anna, down in Old Sac to ride the Christmas Train. Santa was on board and each kid got to visit with him for a moment or two. Lucas told Santa his top-two wished for Christmas gifts: a two-wheeled bike (with training wheels) and a box of costumes (firefighter, doctor, cop, race-car driver, etc.), which he saw in a catalog. As Lucas watched Santa approaching down the center aisle of the train, his eyes lit up with glee and anticipation. I guess four and a half is probably the ideal Santa Claus age.

After the train ride, we finally did a tiny bit of shopping, then went to my parents. They gave us two tickets to see Throwing Parties at the B Street Theatre and provided babysitting, too. Ian and I joyfully drove back downtown in the pouring rain to see the show. Unfortunately it pretty-much sucked. I’ve seen original Buck Busfield Xmas plays before and they’ve been good in the past. Alas, this one missed the mark completely.

However, the play made for enjoyable and snarky dinner conversation while we dined at the Tower Café afterward. It’s so nice to be (1) out on the town, (2) with my main squeeze, (3) without our 4-year-old Napoleon trying manfully to order us around and prevent us from speaking to each other. Having four whole (waking) hours together without interruptions was postitively blissful.

Sunday morning’s break in the rain prompted us to venture out to get our Chrsitmas tree. We drove to Davis Ranch just beyond Sloughouse Inn on Jackson Highway to choose and cut a tree. It’s a very flat and muddy tree farm. In biting mist, we tromped through the muck to find the right tree. I placed my normal, rather-perfectionist notions about Christmas trees on the back burner this year. At Davis Ranch, trees are only $35 for any size or type. I figured if it was green and $35, it would be just fine, no matter what it looked like. We were pleased to find an attractive, large tree. Lucas amused himself by slopping through the mud and splashing in puddles. He got both feet stuck in a particularly sticky, gloopy mud puddle and couldn’t get out. I went to rescue him. We got Lucas out, but not the boot. He put his sock into the mud, then stood on one foot leaning up against me. I was crouched down, leaning over to reach his stuck boot. I don’t know how I avoided landing on my ass in the mud: I’m not exactly nimble anymore.

Anyway, I always feel kinda funny about buying a Christmas tree. It’s my guilty nature, I suppose. I wouldn’t dream of having Christmas at home without one, and yet … what is ethically better?

1. Cut your own tree from a farm where you know (a) it was grown to be a Christmas tree and this is it’s destiny, and (b) it will be replanted
OR
2. Buy a tree that’s already been cut so that it does it’s job and doesn’t go to waste in the shredder (but probably comes all the way from Oregon and therefore isn’t exactly a locally grown item)

This year, we opted for cheap, local, fresh, and the “teachable moment.” Trees grow in the ground. They are alive. If you cut it down, it dies. Replanting the tree completes the cycle.

Of course, we spent the rest of Sunday decorating the house and making gifts. It was good to spend so much unstressed time together.

2 Responses to “323”

  • pirategrrl
    December 12, 2006 at 2:33 pm

    I have heard of people buying a christmas tree in a large container of some sort and keeping it alive all year. In December they cart it indoors and decorate it, and in January they de-decorate it and wheel it back out to it’s spot in the yard. I like that idea, but am not sure about the practicality of it. And there are always fake trees… but they’re just not the same.

    Reply

  • sarabellae
    December 15, 2006 at 11:56 am

    Yeah, maybe someday we’ll try the live tree thing. The fake ones just don’t do it for me. They offend the pagan in me somehow.

    Reply

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  • About Sara

    Thanks for visiting! I’m Sara, editor and writer, wife to Ian, and mother of two precious boys. I am living each day to the fullest and with as much grace, creativity, and patience as I can muster. This is where I write about living, loving, and engaging fully in family life and the world around me. I let my hair down here. I learn new skills here. I strive to be a better human being here. And I tell the truth.

    Our children attend Waldorf school and we are enriching our home and family life with plenty of Waldorf-inspired festivals, crafts, and stories.

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    “Love doesn’t just sit there like a stone; it has to be made, like bread, remade all the time, made new.” —Ursula K. LeGuinn

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