Not all of them.  But most.

Here’s the situation.  Long, long ago we erected one, real Christmas tree every year.  Which went into a stand that never quite fit it.  Imagine much swearing and sawing of branches.  Not on my part, of course.  I don’t do well with saws.  The last time I cut cheese with a knife I nearly needed stitches afterward.

Anyway, it wasn’t long until each holiday season began with the conversation, “Why don’t we get a fake tree this year?” To which I would reply, “Hell no!”  Or words to that effect.

 Finally we cut a deal.  I would agree to save the pine forests in exchange for getting an artificial tree for each room of the house.  So now we have a six-footer in the front room (which I call the Conservatory–but that’s a whole ‘nother blog) and various smaller versions scattered throughout the rest of the place.  Like I said, they’re not all up yet.  And a couple need to be replaced.  A year in the attic is not always kind to fiber optics.  (Yeah, we have a couple of real freak-jobs just fer laughs.  One goes in the bathroom.  It really lightens the mood in there!)

The boxes are still out, since I’ve only begun to decorate the house as well, so we look like we’ve been attacked by Rubbermaid.  As a result there’s no way two people can pass each other without actually hugging.   Which means I am in heaven at this moment!  Just wait until we start making the gingerbread house.  I’ll be literally unbearable.  Seriously, you’ll have to put on a hazmat suit before you visit this site, otherwise you’ll get instant diabetes from the sugary sweetness I’ll be oozing.  The up-side?  I’m usually cured by New Year’s Day.