Decking the halls

Decking my living room, rather. I called my brother today about our annual tree-getting extravaganza and was inspired to write a song, on the spot. It went something like this:
"Ooooooooooooh, the weather outside is frightful,
but my house will be so delightful...
'cause my brother Jeff's helping meeeeeee
get a tree, get a tree, get a treeeeee!"

He loved it. Was duly impressed. How did I know? Because he said, "Are you done singing? OK. What time should I pick you up?"

Before the Menard's Guy had fully cut the ties on the first tree, I said,
"It's perfect!!! I'll take it!!!"
(I was FROZEN.)

I used my sheer brute strength to launch the tree into the back of Jeff's truck and we drove back to my house talking about the deep stuff siblings talk about on tree-getting expeditions: the origin of the expression "Holy Moly," what makes the atomic clock atomic and the fascinating fact that REO Speedwagon was a car first, then a band.

The tree went up, just like that.
Here's Jeff, surveying his handiwork.
Yep, looks level to me, too.

The tree was properly sniffed and surveyed by the cats, and then I set to rehearsing music for the concert on Saturday. Just having the tree in the house and still feeling the memory of that brisk, sleety wind on my cheeks helped the spirit of the music. It really flowed.

Welcome, season.