Bring Out Your Dead

Further evidence of my status as an octogenarian:

Would you believe that I’m not even hung over this morning like all normal people? I was up by 5:00 AM, did one hour of Power Yoga level II with Bryan Kest, had breakfast, headed to the grocery store to pick up a few things, made Apricot-oat bran muffins, oatmeal bread, and low-fat turkey meat loaf (weight watcher’s begins today).

And then…the dreaded New Year’s Day chore of de-Christmasing the house. We hauled our poor, humiliated dead Christmas tree out to the curb. It reminds me of that scene from Monty Python’s Holy Grail when the guy is standing at the curb with grandpa over his shoulder waiting for the wagon to come with all the dead people on it. “Bring out your dead…CLANG…Bring out your dead…CLANG” Like Grandpa, all the Christmas trees are screaming “No! I’m not dead yet! I feel happy!” But alas, they will all be out there in a pile of mud and snow, waiting for the man with the dead wagon to come. I am justifiably consumed with guilt when you consider what a quintessentially American waste of resources Christmas trees are…and also when you consider what we what we did to it. (If you’re not familiar with my daughter’s contributions to this year’s tree, please refer to the post titled Oh Mutant Tree, Oh Mutant Tree.)

I took pictures:

Notice how the bottom half of the tree–the part in reach of a toddler–is full of colorful “decorations.”

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here’s a better look at her “decorations.”

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Come to think of it, I think the tree is just glad there’s no one hanging toilet paper on it anymore.

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