The Griswold's

I did not marry Clark Griswold. Or at least I didn't think I did. It's not so much the lights, we have an appropriate amount on our roofline. But the tree, that's when I begin to question. There's that one scene in the movie when they are out in the middle of the forest and Juliette Lewis appears frozen as does the rest of the family as Clark finds the perfect, albeit slightly ginormous Christmas tree. I relived that moment in recent history. Minus being completely frozen because let's be honest, I live in Portland, and while it has been cold in recent weeks, it's not cold enough to frost your eyelashes.

Scott's idea of the perfect tree resembles that of Clark Griswold, the bigger the better. I like Christmas trees, I even like tall Christmas trees, I just have never thought that an eight foot tree would be considered shrimpy. This is the beauty that Scott and I ended up with. It's about 11 feet and somehow my husband feels like we should have gone taller, after all there is still a good 5 feet to the top of the ceiling.

Scott is 6 feet tall, just for reference.

Scott cut down our manly tree with an equally manly saw, or at least that's the story we're telling.

Then he strapped it to the Rodeo and we headed home, losing only minor branches and pine needles.


Merry Christmas.
love,
The Griswold's