My aunts always had real Christmas trees with ornaments that matched perfectly and ribbons tied to the boughs, at least they did in my memory. I remember going over to friends' houses and seeing trees with all white ornaments or themes that changed a bit every year. My parents indulged my desires with regard to the tree on certain things, but we never did have a real tree. I can't remember why. Probably because they're flammable and expensive and kind of a pain in the ass.

My first year in Kansas City, I lived alone, and I bought a houseplant and decorated that. When Beloved and I moved in together, we got a real tree once or twice, but I never did go crazy -- even that one year when we had tons of money, God bless the Internet bubble -- and buy all matching ornaments or a bunch of real ribbons to tie on the branches. We're never in Kansas City for Christmas, and it felt like a ton of effort for no real reason. It's not like anyone came over to our house.

Then the little angel was born, and we went back to decorating This Old House with gusto, hanging lighted wreathes above the gorgeous wood trim on the entry way (there were so many things wrong with that house, but the foyer, living and dining room were amazing) and hiding scented pine cones everywhere. We even had this crazy lighted Season's Greetings sign we hung on the Great Retaining Wall of 2004.

Then we realized little kids and breakable Christmas ornaments don't go together and stopped decorating the lower half of the artificial, pre-lit tree for about four years.

I've always taken after my grandmother in terms of my affection for grandeur. She could afford it, I can't, but I still love it most of the time. Or I thought I did. I asked for -- and received -- crystal drinking glasses for my wedding, but I've used them only a handful of times. I just started using the not-china-just-normal-but-reserved-for-special-occasions stoneware pretty white plates we kept in the cupboards for the past eleven years while we chipped up the normal stuff or used plastic plates from Target every night at dinner. I thought I wanted fancy stuff, but then realized I get scared to use it, afraid I'll break it. But why? I'm 38 years old and my daughter is old enough to run with scissors. If I'm not going to use it now, then when will I? When I'm too arthritic to wrap my paw around a wine glass?

I tell myself the reason I don't go whole-hog on a beautifully decorated tree is because nobody comes to our house at Christmastime. We don't have annual Christmas parties like some people do, and we still go to Iowa every year for Christmas Eve and Christmas day.

I think the truth is that I don't care that my ornaments are terribly pedestrian, and you can totally see the gaps in my low-rent artificial tree. The little angel likes the ornaments, and at this point, I care more about what she thinks than anything else. Christmas is about kids, and we decorate the house for her, mostly.

I wonder what will happen when she leaves the house -- will I eventually tie ribbons around the boughs of a real Christmas tree with matching ornaments while sipping champagne from my Waterford crystal wine glass? Will I ever get as fancy as my twelve-year-old self imagined I would be?

We have a 40-foot evergreen tree (probably) (I didn't measure it) in our yard. My husband has been dying to light that baby up since we moved here four years ago. The problem? LED lights. A tish expensive. 

I hope you kids see what a waste of resources this has been.

He worked really hard on it, Grandma.

BUT! This weekend when we unpacked the Christmas decorations, lo, we discovered we had cleaned Target out of LED lights at the end-of-season sale last year and forgot all about it. It was like sleep-light-buying. Also, inexplicably, we bought four large outdoor Christmas balls the size of my head.

It was a holiday miracle!

Cut to Sunday. Beloved had been outside for hours. Finally he knocked on the door and asked me to help him. I only wish I had video or even a photo of this process, but I was helping. So was the neighbor.

My husband had duct-taped together five mop/broom/whatever poles and fashioned a hook on the very end with wire. The contraption was tall enough to reach the roof of our two-story house.

He had also electrical taped every strand of lights together and looped them into a cooler on wheels so he could feed them out as he went. And he checked every bulb to make sure it worked first.

I just don't understand what happened.

Did you check every bulb?

Every one.

As my neighbor and I stared open-mouthed, he proceeded to hang the lights on this enormous tree in less than an hour while we followed him, feeding him lights.

SLACK, RITA, I NEED SLACK.

There were just enough lights. I handed him these basketball-like Christmas ornaments, and he had to adapt his hanging device to open the loops on the ornaments to better hang them on the limbs by adding another prong. 

Last night he told me he wants to take a picture of the little angel in front of that tree at just the right moment of dusk to use for our Christmas cards. I told him I thought such a picture would suck because I am such a horrible photographer and it would have to be me because these days he's usually not home before sunset. I am about as good at capturing the moment between dusk and night as I am at long division. But then I saw the look on his face and immediately felt like the world's biggest asshole, because hello, he taped together every cleaning device we have in our house for this*.

So I'm going to attempt it. 

Lord help me.

*Next year he says he's going to make a better hanging device out of PVC pipe. I'm hoping he can patent it and sell it worldwide so we can quit our jobs and watch John Hughes movies all day. Stay tuned.