Tuesday, December 04, 2007


The Wog no longer calls them "Nis-Mas" trees. Sniff, sniff.

Nonetheless, she was very excited to go pick one out, and talked about it constantly. She asked if we could get a pink one; when I told her we could not, she said, "How about a green one?" Done deal!

It is our tradition to pick the fattest (most vertically challenged?) tree on the lot. I saw it immediately, but The Wog insisted on methodologically inspecting each one. When she reached my chosen fatty, she rejected it saying, "No, it's not right." (She obviously wanted to choose it for herself, and resented our pushing toward this one.) So Marc wove her in a circle back through all the trees so she could "find" it for herself; she immediately declared, "This one's perfect!"

The elfin Doodle wishes he could have some post tree-picking pizza, too:

1 comment:

Minnie said...

Princess Polly is her Minnie's granddaughter. This comment is validated by the following observations...the darling young lady yearned for a "pink tree" (I had one when I was in college.),keeps alive the tradition that the tree should be rotund, and ensures that she searches the farm examining each tree before selecting the "fattest tree" on the lot! Bless you, Polly, you inherited the Christmas tree gene! Only time will tell if the Doodle has the same inclination. Until then, he continues to rank among the charmers of the world.

Love you,