The Pros and Cons of purchasing a live tree:
Pros:
1) Smells of Christmas. Is there anything better than waking up in the morning and smelling the glorious aroma of pine wafting through the house? And it's even better knowing that it is not a Glade air-freshener that you plugged into the wall last night, but the actual scent of Christmas, emanating from a living thing which now resides in your living room, garbed in all the tinsel and ornaments of the season.
2) Just feels right. There is something traditional and homey about picking out a tree, bringing it home and inducting it into the family for a few wonderful, holiday-spirit filled weeks.
Well, that's just about it for the pros...
Cons:
1) You have to trim it. If you don't trim the tree, it will not look pretty, it will look like, well, a tree, with fingery branches and uneven needles.
2) Bald spots. Unlike fake trees which are manufactured to have even branch distribution, real trees, like real people, can sometimes acquire bald spots. And when I say sometimes, I mean all the time. Pine-pattern baldness is a rising epidemic in American populations of Pine, Douglas Fir and Spruce.
3) You have to water it. Fake trees are a lot less like pets and a lot more like, well, Christmas decorations. So keep that in mind when making the decision to buy a tree next Christmas.
4) It sheds. Also like a pet. Better hope you got some extra vacuum bags in your stocking from Santa this year. You're going to need them.
5) Ridiculously short life span. Even with the proper amount of watering, you cannot reasonably expect a live tree to stay live for more than a month after being decapitated. So, unlike the rest of us normal Americans, you will probably be putting up your Christmas tree the week before Christmas which means that you will not only look like a Scrooge but will probably feel like one as well.
6) Sap. It's going to get on your hands when you bring the tree into the house. It's going to get on your ornaments when you're decorating the tree. It's going to get on your carpet while the tree is sitting patiently, awaiting Christmas. It's going to get on your hands when you take the tree out of the house.
7) Nasty Surprises. When I say nasty, I do mean nasty. Particularly here in Florida where it is warm enough in the winter for little critters to live quite comfortably in those branches. Time for a flashback! Everyone, close your eyes and imagine with me... Actually, don't close your eyes, then you wouldn't be able to read the flashback. Okay, here we go:
As you've probably guessed, this year my family bought a live tree. When we were bringing it into the house, we found a snake skin in tree. We laughed nervously and tossed it into the grass. That should have been our sign. Instead, we took the tree inside and set it up. So, after a while the tree died, having been neglected in the watering department, and it was looking pretty sad by Christmas time. The day after Christmas we had decided to take down the tree and throw it out. Before we could do so, I had to put the opened gifts away, as they were still somewhat strewn across the living room floor. While picking up, I noticed a baby praying mantis. I jumped a little, more startled than frightened, and asked my younger sister to rescue the small, twiggy thing and take it outside. We started wondering how it had even gotten inside. Emma suggested that perhaps there had been an egg sac in the Christmas tree and then, simultaneously, almost in slow motion, we all looked up. All over the wall and the ceiling, at least fifty of these creepy little bugs. And who knows how many were still in the tree! Now the quest to get the tree out of the house was even more urgent. Luckily, with the help of a broom, a vacuum, and, on the part of my environmentally aware younger sister, a small plastic cup, our house is now praying mantis free, but it was still a very disturbing hour and a half.
Let this be a lesson: Do not buy a live tree, particularly if you are a Floridian. Not only is it a huge hassle, but hideous things can happen.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Men Everywhere
So, I promised everyone that I would post something funny here after yesterday's post. At first I was nervous. How am I going to come up with something hilarious off the top of my head??? I'm not a stand up comedian!
Well, fortunately for me, and for you, I don't have to come up with my own material because people are throwing it at me in the streets.
Point in case: I walked to the UPS store today because I needed to check my mail. Sadly, there was nothing in my little U-Box, so I was leaving, feeling depressed, when I overheard the following conversation between a young couple:
Girl: "You remember what I was wearing Friday night at the club?"
Boy: "...... uh...... yeah, yeah. I remember."
Girl: *skeptical* "Well, then what was I wearing?"
Boy: "Uh.... you know, that, that one dress. Looked real good on you, babe."
Girl: "You don't remember!"
Boy: "No, no, I do. Yo ass looked real nice."
Girl: "So, you remember what my butt looked like but you can't think what color my dress was? Why are you never paying attention?!?"
That poor guy. This particular couple was black, but that's not really important, because right now, millions of couples from every ethnicity, culture, country and generation are having this conversation. Pure and simple, ladies: men everywhere are drawing a blank on what their girlfriend wore last Friday night.
It's because we have too many clothes. They can't keep track of all of that, and if they can, they do it somewhere deep in their subconscious, not easily recalled at the drop of a pin. So don't hate on your guy if he can't tell you the shade of magenta of the blouse that you wore on your first date five months ago; their brains just work differently.
That being said, I would like to make an exception: if the guy in question happens to be gay, chances are he remembers exactly what shade of magenta you were wearing and why it didn't work with the lipstick you'd chosen.
Boy 1: "Do you remember what I was wearing Friday night at the club?"
Boy 2: "Yes, I remember what you were wearing. And I remember those shoes you were wearing, too." *shakes head* "Unh-uh."
Well, fortunately for me, and for you, I don't have to come up with my own material because people are throwing it at me in the streets.
Point in case: I walked to the UPS store today because I needed to check my mail. Sadly, there was nothing in my little U-Box, so I was leaving, feeling depressed, when I overheard the following conversation between a young couple:
Girl: "You remember what I was wearing Friday night at the club?"
Boy: "...... uh...... yeah, yeah. I remember."
Girl: *skeptical* "Well, then what was I wearing?"
Boy: "Uh.... you know, that, that one dress. Looked real good on you, babe."
Girl: "You don't remember!"
Boy: "No, no, I do. Yo ass looked real nice."
Girl: "So, you remember what my butt looked like but you can't think what color my dress was? Why are you never paying attention?!?"
That poor guy. This particular couple was black, but that's not really important, because right now, millions of couples from every ethnicity, culture, country and generation are having this conversation. Pure and simple, ladies: men everywhere are drawing a blank on what their girlfriend wore last Friday night.
It's because we have too many clothes. They can't keep track of all of that, and if they can, they do it somewhere deep in their subconscious, not easily recalled at the drop of a pin. So don't hate on your guy if he can't tell you the shade of magenta of the blouse that you wore on your first date five months ago; their brains just work differently.
That being said, I would like to make an exception: if the guy in question happens to be gay, chances are he remembers exactly what shade of magenta you were wearing and why it didn't work with the lipstick you'd chosen.
Boy 1: "Do you remember what I was wearing Friday night at the club?"
Boy 2: "Yes, I remember what you were wearing. And I remember those shoes you were wearing, too." *shakes head* "Unh-uh."
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Tears are for the Living
Editor's Note: I'm just warning you now, this post isn't funny. If that's what you came here for and you think you'll be disappointed, come back later, I'm sure I'll have something humorous for you.
Last night I was feeling a little bit lost and a little bit (lot a bit) sad. I was confused and angry and looking for some sort of answer, something to make sense. Led by this conglomeration of emotion, I wound up flipping through the Bible at an obscenely early hour in the morning, hoping that some passage would jump out at me and suddenly shine a light on everything.
After a few minutes of frustrated page turning, I decided to just settle in, read a few stories and go to sleep, so I turned to John. I had just started reading the story of Lazarus (Chapter 11), the one who was raised from the dead, and instead of feeling happy, like I normally do when reading that story, I became angry. Jesus raised this man from the dead. He can work miracles, so why Lazarus and not my Dad? I'm not saying that I was expecting Him to raise the dead for me, but is a little bit (lot a bit) of healing too much to ask?
Still frustrated, I kept reading. Both Mary and Martha come to Jesus and say "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." I found myself thinking, "Lord, if you had been there... weren't you there?" But shortly after this, John goes on to write,
I read that line and I was suddenly crying.
Don't you see? Jesus did not weep for Lazarus, because He knew that Lazarus would be alive again. He wept for Mary and Martha, the people whose lives had been shattered, whose hearts were torn open, who felt loss and grief and loneliness. He wept for their sorrows, but not for Lazarus.
In the same way, I know that He did not weep for my Daddy, nor does He. He may weep for us, those of us left without a father, a husband, a brother, a son, a friend... in fact, I'm sure He does, and that gives me comfort to know that God feels my sorrow and heartache, to know that He understands. God, too, watched someone that He loved pray for death to end his last struggling breaths; He knows anguish and loss and mourning. So, yes. Jesus wept for Mary and Martha, and He weeps for me and my family whenever we cry out of loneliness or anger or fear. But He did not weep for Lazarus because He was soon to raise him back to life. How much better is it that He was not weeping when my Daddy died because He was raising him not to life on this earth but to eternal life? How could Jesus cry at death when He is so busy welcoming His faithful child into Heaven?
That was my answer.
Having an answer doesn't make the sadness go away, but it makes it easier to bear, knowing that God doesn't watch from afar, unmoved by my tears, but rather sheds tears of His own. It's like a hand to hold in the darkness, or a tissue offered by a good friend. It doesn't make the bad go away, but it's better than suffering alone.
Last night I was feeling a little bit lost and a little bit (lot a bit) sad. I was confused and angry and looking for some sort of answer, something to make sense. Led by this conglomeration of emotion, I wound up flipping through the Bible at an obscenely early hour in the morning, hoping that some passage would jump out at me and suddenly shine a light on everything.
After a few minutes of frustrated page turning, I decided to just settle in, read a few stories and go to sleep, so I turned to John. I had just started reading the story of Lazarus (Chapter 11), the one who was raised from the dead, and instead of feeling happy, like I normally do when reading that story, I became angry. Jesus raised this man from the dead. He can work miracles, so why Lazarus and not my Dad? I'm not saying that I was expecting Him to raise the dead for me, but is a little bit (lot a bit) of healing too much to ask?
Still frustrated, I kept reading. Both Mary and Martha come to Jesus and say "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." I found myself thinking, "Lord, if you had been there... weren't you there?" But shortly after this, John goes on to write,
33. When Jesus saw her [Mary] weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, He was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. 34. "Where have you laid him?" He asked.
"Come and see, Lord" they replied.
35. Jesus wept.
I read that line and I was suddenly crying.
Don't you see? Jesus did not weep for Lazarus, because He knew that Lazarus would be alive again. He wept for Mary and Martha, the people whose lives had been shattered, whose hearts were torn open, who felt loss and grief and loneliness. He wept for their sorrows, but not for Lazarus.
In the same way, I know that He did not weep for my Daddy, nor does He. He may weep for us, those of us left without a father, a husband, a brother, a son, a friend... in fact, I'm sure He does, and that gives me comfort to know that God feels my sorrow and heartache, to know that He understands. God, too, watched someone that He loved pray for death to end his last struggling breaths; He knows anguish and loss and mourning. So, yes. Jesus wept for Mary and Martha, and He weeps for me and my family whenever we cry out of loneliness or anger or fear. But He did not weep for Lazarus because He was soon to raise him back to life. How much better is it that He was not weeping when my Daddy died because He was raising him not to life on this earth but to eternal life? How could Jesus cry at death when He is so busy welcoming His faithful child into Heaven?
That was my answer.
Having an answer doesn't make the sadness go away, but it makes it easier to bear, knowing that God doesn't watch from afar, unmoved by my tears, but rather sheds tears of His own. It's like a hand to hold in the darkness, or a tissue offered by a good friend. It doesn't make the bad go away, but it's better than suffering alone.
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