Unorthodox Tradition

The holiday season is officially upon us. Well, me anyway — I have no control over the rest of you (yet...). The girls and I went out and picked up our Christmas tree this weekend. A lot of folks (my parents included, before this year) make this a big affair, going out to a Christmas tree farm, spending time looking through the available options, picking out the perfect tree... not us. We prefer the Domino’s Pizza approach — 30 minutes or less.

For the past few years, we’ve gone down to this little church in Springfield, taken a quick run through the lot, picked up the tree, and gotten out of there. We’ve got no particular connection or attachment to this church; it’s just convenient, the help is friendly and efficient, they’ve got a little playground for the girls to amuse themselves on, there’s a decent tree selection, and they’re competitively priced. And hey, if the church uses the money to do something positive for the community, so much the better.

Now, I’ve got nothing against seasonal sentimentality. If you enjoy the tree-selection process, if that’s what gives you joy, great. Knock yourself out. As for me, though, anything that requires me to be out in the cold any longer than necessary has to have a pretty big return on investment (see my last entry, for example). Even my folks, the quintessential tree-hunters, have gone artificial this year; it looks nice to me (although my oldest daughter says it doesn’t feel real).

We’ll see if we end up going that route down the road. But for now, the 30-minute guarantee seems to be working.