12 Days of Christmas Blog Hop: Christi Barth and My Tree!


Welcome back. Here is my part of the 12 days of Christmas blog hop, and info about my tree!

First, here’s Christi:

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Becca Huntley’s produced the Lyndale Park Player’s over-the-top Christmas pageant for ten years. The beloved Minneapolis tradition is the theatre’s main fundraiser. But this year’s production is almost canceled when their director disappears into rehab at the last minute. Good thing his directing partner steps in to save the day. Except for the minor fact that he hates everything about Christmas.

Jack Whittaker wiped the Twin Cities off his shoe with his graduation tassel and never looked back. But duty compels him to fulfill Tyler’s promise to direct the show. Even though it means working side-by-side with Becca, the girl he always wanted, lost to Ty, but never forgot.

It’ll take more than a few handfuls of tinsel to soften Jack’s heart toward Becca’s favorite holiday. Steamy kisses that melt the snow right off his boots are a step in the right direction. They’ll both discover that Christmas is about making each other’s dreams come true. But will doing so destroy their chance at a happily-ever-after together?

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So, my tree.

I adore my Christmas tree. Every year, I really want it to look like this:
12262013ochristmastree

 

Instead, it looks like… well, my tree.

17 years ago, when I first got married, I had precisely one ornament, a decorated egg that I bought in Prague two years before (I was shocked my mother let me have it, even though I bought it for me… I mean, I bought her one, too, but… The egg is pretty awesome).

Over the years, I’ve bought other ornaments, from various trips we went on Disneyland ornaments? Check. Ornaments from that trip we took (pre-kids) to Mexico? Check. And every single ornament made by my children through the years. Including all the ones that are held together with scotch tape, glue and popsicle sticks.

I love my tree. Half the time, it’s a bit scraggly (seven years of drought will do that to trees, and if I’m going to have a real tree, it’s going to be one I cut myself). The decorations are crazy, but I love them. Every memory of my family is contained on that single tree, in that one space.

I have an ornament that is a recording of my son telling a knock-knock joke when he wasn’t even two.

I have an ornament for when I was expecting my daughter, and one that holds her first Christmas pictures.

I have ornaments of all their little handprints, and the ones they colored. Including the ones my son colored, and that boy hates to color, so it’s not… um… his best work.

Best thing ever, my scraggly, crazily decorated tree. I wouldn’t trade it for the most perfect tree ever. Not in a million.

 

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