Today I wrote some Christmas lists. When I was about 8 yrs old that meant I wrote a list of things I want for Christmas, mostly a run down of various toys and games advertised on TV... At age 38 that means I write a list of people I need to buy gifts for, a list of people I need to send holiday greetings to, a list of things to buy... like, I don't know, a Christmas tree.
Buying another tree is a dilemma. For years we had a fake one in New York. It was nice to know it was there, stowed away in a box for each Christmas. Then when we moved I left it in the basement and told our renters they could use it, but I doubt they have. They brought so many things when they moved in, I'm sure there was a Christmas tree of their own in there somewhere. Then we bought a small table top tree in Argentina when we arrived. We were in our small temporary apartment and a little fake tree was the best we could do. After that we bought another large one last year since we had a sizable living room in our condo, (real trees weren't an option in Bariloche, they only sold plastic ones). I truly believed we'd use it for years, but I wasn't going to drag a Christmas tree across the world to San Diego. So here we are without a tree... again.
"People are willing to take these extraordinary chances to become writers, musicians, or painters, and because of them, we have a culture. If this ever stops, our culture will die, because most of our culture, in fact, has been created by people that got paid nothing for it--people like Edgar Allan Poe, Vincent Van Gogh or Mozart."-Kurt Vonnegut