Okay, maybe it was November. Early November. Weeks before Thanksgiving. I blame my parents mostly. And a severe case of only child-dom. It drives Gunnar absolutely crazy. Not just the holiday thing, it’s the fact that my favorites are the most obnoxious the season has to offer. My favorite holiday song is THIS (seriously). My favorite movie is THIS (“He’s magical, Carol!”). I cry every single time I watch it. And not just a few tears. I collapse into a blubbering mess, inconsolable for at least 30 minutes after the movie ends.
So it should come as no surprise that the normal Christmas tree farm opening date just wasn’t early enough for my crazy pants. I called around to several (6?) farms. There must be a support group or 1-800 hotline for this sort of thing.
I finally got in touch with the kind and generous saints at Prior Pines, which by the way is tops. The absolute TOPS.
The conversation went something like this:
Me: HEY! Are you guys open!?
Prior Pines: No. We open Thanksgiving weekend.
Me (but imagine it coming from the most pathetic, dejected human being on the face of the planet): Oh. I see. Well, that’s really too bad. I guess we just won’t celebrate Christmas this year. Thank you for your time and so very sorry to bother you.
Prior Pines: Well, we’re not technically ready but I suppose….
Me: REALLY!?!! Ah, shucks well if you insist! See you in 13 minutes.
Now if you’ll excuse me, the Griswolds start in just a few… and yes I AM hoping for snow.