How excited am I?

About what, you ask? Well, I’ll tell ya.  I’m excited because this weekend, Rob and I are going to spend time together in the best city I know – Philadelphia.

You may remember that we spent a weekend there over the summer, hanging out with friends and just generally enjoying the time together without having to answer to anyone else.  It was pretty awesome, and something we knew we had to do again (if only for the Heavenly Bed and Heavenly Shower at the Westin.  Seriously, have you ever experienced them? Because if not I’d dare to say that you haven’t lived.  It’s just that amazing.).

I love Philly so much.  I can’t describe the feeling very articulately.  It’s just where I was born and raised, the skyline I know by heart, the city I’m insanely proud of for all the times it tries (even if it doesn’t always succeed).

It’s the place that, whenever I visited somewhere else (including NYC), I missed and wanted to return to.  It’s home and it always will be.

So on Saturday and Sunday we paint the town red…and green, since we’re going to try to see as many Christmas-y things as we can.  First up is two tickets to Holiday Pops, which is always fun (they have a gospel choir that is so good I swear I wanna jump up and sing along)…then we hope to get a chance to visit Christmas Village at City Hall, and my favorite…

I haven’t seen the light show at Macy’s since it was the light show at Wannamaker’s (maybe it was already Lord & Taylor at that time…who can tell?).  It’s simple enough – a whole wall of lights in the shape of animals, Christmas characters and snowflakes blinks in time to music and narration by none other than Julie Andrews.  Compared to more hi-tech spectacles this may seem…pedestrian.

But it is so.not.even.  It’s magical.  There’s something about the music and the lights, and seeing the awestruck faces of the little guys all around, that resonates in the soul.  Plus it’s pretty.  And Rob’s never seen it.  So I’m really looking forward to seeing it again.

We would love, like looooove, to visit the Italian Market as well.  We went last year and had a blast even though it was, like, 2 degrees outside with constant icy winds.  I hope that this time around we can take more time to enjoy it without suffering hypothermia.  All the spices, fresh meats and seafood, cheese and produce I can get my hands on.  It’s a dangerous scenario, actually.  Seriously, y’all would have a fit down there.

How could you not be happy around all this olive oil? How??

Regardless of whether or not I get to frolic in the Christmas Village, or drool over the multitude of beautiful food shops in South Philly, or get a good night’s sleep in a Heavenly Bed*, it matters not.  The important thing is spending time with Rob and taking a breather from the madness of the holidays.

That’s what it’s all about.

*I better get a good night’s sleep in that bed.  I was totally lying about it not mattering.

How about you? Any special plans for the holiday season?

I’m so happy to be sharing this series of Christmas tree memories with my friends over at Company Girl Coffee today! Pay a visit – you won’t be disappointed!

There really is something about just sitting at night, looking at the tree.  It takes me back to my younger days, and the annual Christmas tree decorating which took place at my parents’ house.

When I was little, we’d put the tree a couple of weeks before Christmas.  This was always the most magical time of the season.

Or so you’d think.

We’d always use the same fake tree.  I can’t tell you how long the first tree I remember lasted…decades, I guess.  Back then they made the trees well, as they did with everything else.  So Dad would bring the pieces up from the basement and with each trip, the excitement increased.

Then the stand would be place in its spot of honor, and the center pole in the middle.  Screws would be tightened to hold the pole in place, and then Dad would wrap a piece of twine around it and nail it to the wall – I’m assuming that the tree must’ve fallen at one point, back in the day? A wire hoop went around the pole, to hold the branches out to their desired fullness…and then the rows of branches would go on, one by one.

At this point, the tree never seemed tall enough.  Is it possible, I’d wonder annually, that I remembered it taller than it actually was? Did it grow in my memory? But then the top piece would slide home, and that top branch was just as high up as I knew it to be in my heart.

Then.  Oh, then.  It came time for Mom to “shape” the tree – you know, spreading and arranging those many bristly branches until there weren’t any empty spaces and the tree looked good and full.  This…was a little stressful for all of us.  And now, upon remembering this, I know where my “you’re only saying it looks good so I’ll stop” attitude (which pops up every now and again) comes from.  Because I’m pretty sure I just quoted her directly.

Then time for the lights.  I liked to make myself as invisible as possible as Mom and Dad snipped at each other worked together like a real team over the spacing of the strands as they progressed down the length of the tree.  It was uncomfortable super fun.

Finally.  Finally once my mother was completely and totally emotionally drained from the strain of shaping and then stringing the lights, it was time to hang ornaments.  This was where my brother and I would come in, and after many years, my sister and my other brother.  To this day, there’s still the rush between Jason and I to get our “Baby’s First Christmas” ornaments on the tree first, and in a position of more prominence.  Pushing and shoving would ensue as we clamored to get our ornament just one branch higher than the other.  One year not long ago I came home to find my ornament on the back of the tree.  So mine replaced Jason’s, and his was turned backwards.  Mine then went in the trash.  It’s a good time.

But it’s all okay in the end, because I was the first born and therefore have more “This baby is awesome” ornaments than he does.  That’s just the way it goes.

Nowadays, I don’t decorate the tree with the family.  I decorate my own tree with my husband.  And this year we were fortunate enough to decorate two trees – one in the living room, one in the den.  We might not have the annual “who can find their ornament and get it on there first” cage match, but we do carefully unwrap our own precious ornaments…the ones from our honeymoon and from each anniversary…the “Our First Christmas, 2006″ ornament which we so treasure…and put them on the tree together.

I hope that one day I’ll watch, lovingly, as my own children clump all the ornaments together in the one spot of the tree they can actually reach, the way Jason did when we were small.  They’ll go to bed and I’ll fix things when they’re asleep.  And maybe through the years we’ll be adding more “Baby’s First Christmas” ornaments long after I thought I ever would, the way my parents did when the younger pair were born.  Maybe they’ll clamor to hang their own favorite ornaments and through the decades will turn it into a good-natured rivalry which only happens once a year.  And I’ll remember putting up the tree long ago with my family, and how even my parents’ strained nerves were a part of the ritual.

And I’ll smile beatifically through it all, my composure maintained, my sanity firmly in place.

See, we use pre-lit trees now.  It’s a better day.