Ok, so here’s last year’s real tree:
Not horrible but not great and certainly no Blue Room tree. Did you see the First Lady’s tree?!?! It’s so beautiful. Like *tear* beautiful. See it here.
Then here’s this year’s tree:
Hmmmm. I think I still liked the real tree better. I should try to take a picture in similar lighting for a better comparison, right?
When I was growing up, decorating the tree was like a sacred ritual. Although we never had a set day to set up the tree, when it eventually showed up in the yard, we knew it was close to time. Real trees were the route we always took, on several occasions even going out to the tree farm to pick our own.
We did a little decorating outside the house but left the major light displays to the folks across the street. They were a great landmark when giving directions to our place. Inside, the windows that faced the front got some spray snow and the banisters got some garland, but the crown jewel was the tree. I watched in awe as my mom would transform a plain old tree into a piece of art.
There were two key components to the tree: bubble lights and the chirping bird. Bubble lights are straight 70s and they rock so hard it should be illegal. Can you imagine that bubbly goodness on your tree?!?!
I wish that I could upload sound so you could hear what the product description calls “the joyous sound of a bird chirping”. It’s not joyous really. It’s pretty annoying after a while but that never stopped us from hiding it in the center of the tree like it was a little bird’s nest. People were always amazed by it too. We all just found that to be hysterical.
My mom would decorate and I would hand her the ornaments and as I got older, I was allowed to place some ornaments or add the final touch of icicles. I believe that I was about 14 or 15 when the honor of fully decorating the tree was bestowed upon me. No pressure!! Welcome in OCD.
With this great task upon me, I was so careful to place each ornament just perfectly to try to live up to the standard of trees before mine. I’m proud to say that my trees were all beautiful. My tree OCD, however, never left.
Fast forward 20(!) years to current day Christmas where I’m solely in charge of the tree. For the last three years, we’ve been buying a fresh cut tree because I love the scent of pine when I walk in the front door. I’m not so sheltered, though, as not to realize the importance of our natural resources. This year we bought our first fake tree.
Obviously, I didn’t immediately fall in love with this idea nor the looks of the tree when Kiddo and I first started putting it up. It came pre-lit with various colored lights. They’re bright. Really bright. While the family photo albums have already been handed down, the Christmas decorations have not yet. My tree is without bubble lights and chirping birds. Sadness. It is full of pretty red and silver ornaments with some splashes of other color here and there.
What I’ve learned this year is that fake trees are heaven for those with tree OCD. It’s taken me three days now to finish decorating the tree. Partially because there’s just so much life to take care of outside of the tree, but mostly because of the OCD. Every ornament must be hanging down perfectly straight. Yes, I’m off my rocker. But the fake tree is AWESOME for this!! If an ornament isn’t hanging properly, I can bend its branch or the ones around it to make room! AHAHAHAHAHAHA! Also, I need to have the amounts of red and silver be in just the right balance. Icicles can’t be clumpy and have to be just the right amount and spray snow can’t be overdone. I need help.
I am hoping that I will be able to finish the tree tonight and put away my tendencies for one more year. If I do, I’ll post a photo. I know that I’ll never be fully satisfied with the tree’s appearance, but that’ll do pig, that’ll do.
Preface: G$ is Garen Gueyikian, formerly Granian, currently the frontman for Kill The Alarm.
I love live music. At any time you can give me a guy or gal with a guitar and a mic and let him or her have at it and I’ll listen for hours, providing said performer is good of course. Back in 2001, before I left for parts unknown, AKA Club Med, I did my best to fill up my MP3 player (not iPod, I wasn’t that cool yet) with as much music as humanly possible. One of the songs I happened to download was “Whole Again“, but, it was mislabeled as John Mayer so I still didn’t have the full knowledge.
Fast forward about two years. Still in parts unknown, just different parts with different people. My roommate, Ant, at that time was someone I knew from almost day one of my Club Med days. (Shout out to I Fly!) One afternoon, we were chilling in the room, listening to some music when “Whole Again” came on. Ant went over to make sure he was hearing what he was hearing and then asked me how I knew of Granian. Completely confused (although G$ really has a COMPLETELY separate sound than JM) as I was under the impression that I was listening to JM, I requested an explanation.
Proving once more that the world is indeed quite small, Ant went and pulled out Hang Around and played “Whole Again” again. Having already been in love with one song, I devoured everything else Ant had by G$. In an awesome twist of fate, it just so happened that G$ was coming to visit us at Club Med to do a little performing and a lot of hanging out and having fun.
If you’ve ever met G$, you already know that he’s one of the most down-to-earth people around. None of that I’m-a-rock-star attitude crap. He sat around with us, played, sang, and completely caught me off guard when I was singing along (quietly) and he abruptly stopped playing, trying to catch me singing. Ha! No I will not sing in front of the professional!
G$ came to visit a few more times (that I got to be a part of) and never failed to provide us with great entertainment. It is because of him that I will now play the hell out of “Shape of My Heart” by Sting and “New York State of Mind” by Billy Joel and I’m not afraid to say that I like G$’s versions better.
If you haven’t yet, click on one of the links above to get the G$ Experience. You won’t be sorry.