One final paper down, one to go. And what am I doing? Stringing popcorn for the first time and learning that egg nog tastes better with a splash of bacardi. What a marvelous night. After such a strange couple of weeks, I was filled with such happiness tonight. My roommates and I, we bought our Christmas tree tonight and had Decemberfest.
Now the monthly 'fest is a time-honored tradition, begun in October of 2006 the month after I moved into the ministry house. Chan came tearing up to the attic of the house (the first one I lived in for three short months) screeching "OKTOBERFEST!!" at the top of her lungs. Coming cautiously downstairs after the invasion, Carrie and Chandra met everyone in the kitchen with autumn-flavored beer; it was a good night. And every month now, they try to have a 'fest, announced the same way each time.
After our newest month-old roommate Claire texted us and told us that a friend of hers was able to get us a free tree, all seven of us straggled over to Oakland Park Nursery to pick out the best one. Carrie and I were practically skipping when we saw the rows and rows of trees to choose from. The two standards were 1) It must full, but not so fat that it wouldn't fit in the corner of our living room 2) It must be taller than Carrie, who is 5'9". After picking out the perfect one in the far corner of the lot, the boys working hefted it over to their work bench and trimmed it and bundled it and attached it neatly to Claire's car. Picking out a wreath to give to our horticulturist cat-lady neighbor Pam, we headed home.
Picking the knots of the twine open and throwing open the door of the house, I watched fretfully as Carrie and Chan and Claire carried the unwieldy package up the icy steps (today was our first real snow - three perfect-for-snowballs inches). As Carrie and I awkwardly tried to bang on the treestand, Claire twirled the tree absently, making it harder for Chan to hold it and making it harder for Carrie and I to screw on the contraption. We giggled at all the innuendo and awkwardness of the situation.
Putting down the tree for a moment in the corner, still bound with plastic chicken wire, Chandra and Carrie screamed "DECEMBERFEST!!" and opened the brown bags on the dining room table. Once everyone's glass was filled, Claire had the honors of cutting open our tree, our Christmas-perfect tree. Everyone was bustling with some holiday agenda - Carrie and Claire began putting on the white lights, Beth made a wire contraption to hold our seven self-decorated stockings over our fireplace, Chandra and Genny went around taking pictures of anything moving, and Kim and I tried to stay out of the way. I sat there with my egg nog, singing along to the Christmas cd's carols and drank in the scene. The festivity and tradition, with my friends, my sisters. I can lose a little sleep to write my paper a little later; it's worth it if only I can remember these few hours for a very long time.
We took a picture in front of our perfect tree, a rare picture with all seven of us together. I can't remember if Kim was wearing her red flannel dog pajamas or not yet. Chandra put in Jim Carrey's "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" and cuddled up with Kim to page through trashy magazines; Carrie and Claire went out to fetch more Christmas lights and a multitude of candy canes; I worked for over an hour on a string of popcorn once Beth pointed me to the needle and thread; Genny went to bed because she has to work early in the morning. After Carrie affixed our favorite questionably-shaped gourd from Oktoberfest atop the tree for lack of a star, after the tree was covered in candy canes and enough popcorn string to maybe cover a fourth of the branches, I reluctantly ascended the stairs, wishing I could take the evening with me to keep in a shoebox to open whenever I wanted to be reminded of how good I've got it, how incredibly good.
Nothing profound. No life lesson. Just a memory I wanted to keep.
Now the monthly 'fest is a time-honored tradition, begun in October of 2006 the month after I moved into the ministry house. Chan came tearing up to the attic of the house (the first one I lived in for three short months) screeching "OKTOBERFEST!!" at the top of her lungs. Coming cautiously downstairs after the invasion, Carrie and Chandra met everyone in the kitchen with autumn-flavored beer; it was a good night. And every month now, they try to have a 'fest, announced the same way each time.
After our newest month-old roommate Claire texted us and told us that a friend of hers was able to get us a free tree, all seven of us straggled over to Oakland Park Nursery to pick out the best one. Carrie and I were practically skipping when we saw the rows and rows of trees to choose from. The two standards were 1) It must full, but not so fat that it wouldn't fit in the corner of our living room 2) It must be taller than Carrie, who is 5'9". After picking out the perfect one in the far corner of the lot, the boys working hefted it over to their work bench and trimmed it and bundled it and attached it neatly to Claire's car. Picking out a wreath to give to our horticulturist cat-lady neighbor Pam, we headed home.
Picking the knots of the twine open and throwing open the door of the house, I watched fretfully as Carrie and Chan and Claire carried the unwieldy package up the icy steps (today was our first real snow - three perfect-for-snowballs inches). As Carrie and I awkwardly tried to bang on the treestand, Claire twirled the tree absently, making it harder for Chan to hold it and making it harder for Carrie and I to screw on the contraption. We giggled at all the innuendo and awkwardness of the situation.
Putting down the tree for a moment in the corner, still bound with plastic chicken wire, Chandra and Carrie screamed "DECEMBERFEST!!" and opened the brown bags on the dining room table. Once everyone's glass was filled, Claire had the honors of cutting open our tree, our Christmas-perfect tree. Everyone was bustling with some holiday agenda - Carrie and Claire began putting on the white lights, Beth made a wire contraption to hold our seven self-decorated stockings over our fireplace, Chandra and Genny went around taking pictures of anything moving, and Kim and I tried to stay out of the way. I sat there with my egg nog, singing along to the Christmas cd's carols and drank in the scene. The festivity and tradition, with my friends, my sisters. I can lose a little sleep to write my paper a little later; it's worth it if only I can remember these few hours for a very long time.
We took a picture in front of our perfect tree, a rare picture with all seven of us together. I can't remember if Kim was wearing her red flannel dog pajamas or not yet. Chandra put in Jim Carrey's "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" and cuddled up with Kim to page through trashy magazines; Carrie and Claire went out to fetch more Christmas lights and a multitude of candy canes; I worked for over an hour on a string of popcorn once Beth pointed me to the needle and thread; Genny went to bed because she has to work early in the morning. After Carrie affixed our favorite questionably-shaped gourd from Oktoberfest atop the tree for lack of a star, after the tree was covered in candy canes and enough popcorn string to maybe cover a fourth of the branches, I reluctantly ascended the stairs, wishing I could take the evening with me to keep in a shoebox to open whenever I wanted to be reminded of how good I've got it, how incredibly good.
Nothing profound. No life lesson. Just a memory I wanted to keep.
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