River Doesn't Like the new Christmas Tree and Other Holiday Thoughts

It’s back:  The big, green, lighted and decorated tree is in our living room, and I hate it.

I think it is a replacement tree because it is bigger and fuller than last year, and the chances are slim that would occur in the shed.  Also, a week before my parents brought a big, long box, that barely fit in their compact car, onto the porch. It smelled like fake pine.

Also, I had heard Mommy saying she wanted a bigger tree this year.  I surmise they went to the artificial tree forest, where the stuffed squirrels and garden gnomes came to maturity and found one they liked.  This is the first time since I have been living with my parents that they have a new tree. Rumor is the Daddy’s Mommy was someone who could never find an artificial tree she liked and kept buying ner ones until she had an artificial tree farm in the basement.  

I am glad we have an artificial tree.  Real trees make me sad. They remind me of when humans are told to bring a loved one home to die.  Within a month, both of them are on the street having expired. Bringing something into your house weeks before it goes to the Bridge, and dressing it up in bright lights, baubles and ribbons do not seem fair to me, unless we are talking about Roy Cohn, then it is justice.

The tree does take up more room than last year’s model.  The house may have shrunk, or the universe is collapsing, but I think I would have noticed that before the tree went up.  There used to be room on the northwest side of the living room for my bed and toy basket. Now there isn’t, and they are on the other side of the room.  People often forget about the dog bed when they are purchasing a tree.  

The decapitated Santas on sticks have been put back in the front garden.  Mommy says they are decorations. They light up at night. I think they are a sharp warning to Santas everywhere, not to visit our home.  Between them are Frostys without a torso, similarly spiked. They don’t bother me as much as Santas. I am not interested in Frosty visiting me.  All he brought to the children he visited was heartache and misery. He abandoned them like a wayward father to go hang out with his friend Santa at the North Pole.  He ended up stuck in the yard open to the elements. Santa tried to bring him inside, but Mrs. Claus said: “You ain’t bringing another one of you nasty ass friends to live here.  I just got done varnishing the floors, and his carrot nose ain’t dripping on my floors. Put him the yard next to the mutant rednosed reindeer who keeps me up at night flashing that damn nose.”

On Monday, we did the Christmas card photos.  They must have taken 870 pictures. I hope they found one.  In the middle of the session, I fled, and it took a lot of coaxing to get me back to the photoshoot.  I am a bit of a diva. 




I wish you are a very Merry Christmas Day because I know the run-up to it will be an icy hell.