Sunday afternoon I went to look for a tree. I'd gotten the Fargo back during the week and despite the damage to my wallet I have to admit that the old girl was running better than it had in ages. The weird clunk from second to third was gone, although going up hill the motor laboured and wheezed - you could almost hear it saying, "I think I can, I think I can."
Margaret and I went to one of those "You Cut" places that seems to charge by the inch. Still, Christmas only comes around once a year and to be honest I've never really outgrown the holiday. I love to decorate for Christmas, although I draw the line at tinsel. Cats and tinsel are a very bad combination. I have a terrible memory from my childhood of our Siamese cross running around the house with several inches of tinsel trailing out its backside. What was worse was when Curtis dared me to pull it out. Which I did and it was quite possibly the longest piece of tinsel in history - I should have taken a picture and sent it to the Guinness people. Have I mentioned I have three cats?
I digress.
So we cut down a nice seven footer, and tossed it in the back of the truck and I put it on the porch to dry. Margaret stayed over for a while, and convinced me that "Eat Pray Love" would be fun to watch on a Sunday evening. To quote the inimical Forrest Gump, "that's all I got to say about that."
Anyways I got home this evening from running a couple of odd jobs to find Norton and Margaret in the living room stringing up lights on my tree. Margaret came over and gave me a hug and a kiss, and Norton was grinning. "Hey John, look it's a Christmas tree!"
Last year Norton and Margaret decorated the tree while I was out at a job, and I returned home to find the two of them grinning like lawn gnomes at a garage sale. I threw a major hissy fit and let them know in no uncertain terms that it was MY HOUSE DAGNABBIT (I actually said dagnabbit, I don't know where it came from, but out it came) and tree decorating in my house was to be done by me when I said so. I even remember stomping my foot once or twice.
Here we were a year later and thing one and thing two were decorating the tree - without me. Margaret sensing I was about to throw another wobbly quickly pointed out they were not decorating at all. They were merely staging the tree and no actual decorating could occur until the lights were on anyway. Norton nodded like a bobble head. I looked and sure enough the boxes marked "tree decorations" were on the floor. Unopened.
"Well let's get decorating." I pulled over a box and started taking out ornaments. Most of what I have has come to me through various yard sales and hand-me-downs. I prefer to think of the stuff as vintage. I have stuff that's never been opened, and through the years I don't think the tree has ever looked the same twice.
We were about fifteen minutes in when Norton's tummy gave a growl that made once of the Clarence's jump a little. "John, what's for dinner?"
"Gee, I don't know Norton. You've been home all day, what are you making?" Margaret made a face at me. It had been a long day, and I wasn't about to go fix a big dinner. "How about breakfast?"
"Oh yummy, breakfast for dinner." Norton actually clapped his hands.
Margaret didn't seem to be offering to cook, so I took her silence as a yes. The tree was looking pretty decent and was mostly done by the look of things. Although how much of this was due to me and Norton and how much was Margaret re-decorating when she thought we weren't looking I'm not sure. She'd probably say "A lot." Me, I'm not so sure. She's a typical tree Nazi and won't rest until she's conquered the tree all by herself.
From the kitchen I called out to Margaret and Norton, "Pancakes, bacon and eggs okay?"
Norton called back, "No hash browns?"
I looked in the freezer and found a bag of tater tots. "I got taters." I could hear clapping again. I always get the urge to throw a fish at him, but it would be pointless. I shuffled around the kitchen getting things going, and after about half an hour I wandered back into the living room to see what was going on.
"John, look what we found! Isn't it awesome. This is totally cool. And the cats love it!" The tree was delicately decorated with discretely placed strands of tinsel. No clumps, none of the haphazard blobs that was the calling card of my childhood efforts. This was almost elegant in its execution - it was definitely Margaret's work. Be that as it may, it was still tinsel.
Where did they find tinsel? I didn't even know I had any - which just goes to show I really don't have any idea what's in those boxes. Norton was dangling a piece in front of Clarence who was on his back and trying to catch it with his front paws.
I couldn't watch.
This will end badly. I just know it. There's a lot of days between now and Epiphany when the tree comes down.
At least I was able to put the star on the tree, despite Norton trying to call dibs. After all, my house - my tree. Tinsel and all.
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