The Friday following Thanksgiving, I usually fetch the tree. There was a time when the wife and I made an excursion of selecting & cutting a tree from one of the tree farms between here & the Santa Cruz mountains. But the hassle involved wore those romantic notions out of both of us. I bring home the tree, lug it into the living room and place it in the stand at the direction of the wife, who judges the best side, whether it’s straight, etc. The wife strings the lights, and hangs the ornaments which have always been beautifully wrapped and packed by her from the previous year. The ornaments are unwrapped and cover the dining room table. She does all the decorating while I make the popcorn and cookies. The ornaments are an elaborate and time consuming mystery entrusted to the high priestess alone. My job is to ply her with tea and munchies, and on completion of the “miracle” provide the perfunctory “oohs” and “ahhs” at the exquisite marvel. Then it’s a night of tv and snacks under the wondrous blazing tree. Oh yes, lest I forget, my other duty is to keep the tree watered for the duration of the exhibit. The tree comes down New Years day following the Rose Parade.