So I gotta admit that I have been selfish and lazy with the freaky linky love.
I go to Annie's when I need the link to read Sass, and Hollywood Query Letters. I go to Pink Poppy's when I want to read Genuine and Michele.
These are all blogs I read everyday, and they should be over there on the right (yes, the blonde can learn and I got which side of the page right this time). I promise, next time a template update happens, up they go.
In other news, my nephew put up the Cat jungle gym I mean Christmas Tree while I was at work today. It's a fake tree. I hate it. I hate it with a passion. I've always had real trees until last year, when I lost my mind and bought this thing.
You have to realize, I grew up at a nursery/landscape centre, so we always always always had real Christmas trees. I miss that so much, selling Christmas trees this time of year.
When you grow up in a family business, you pretty much have to help out, even when you move out and get a different job. There are no lines of distinction, and at Christmas time we all helped out, as selling Christmas Trees is not exactly profitable business, monetarily at least.
My parents just did it every year for the regular customers. We got our trees from a farm that planted two for every one cut down. Any remaining trees were donated to the Indiana Wildlife Association, as they put them in lakes for the fish to use to spawn.
Being the responsible tree huggers that they are, my parents did these things which took a big bite of their profits away. Our trees were also more expensive then other places around because of this. It didn't keep people away though. They knew our family, and some had been through several houses of landscaping, Christmas Trees, and flowers with us.
You totally freeze when you sell Christmas Trees. It is freakin' cold, it always always snowed on my watch, and I would bitch, whine, moan, and complain the whole time. Then something like the David family would happen.
The David family came in every year until the business closed, which was about 10 years. Mr. David would bring a hatchet, and he would "pretend" to cut down the tree as we untied it from it's stake on the other side. We'd then watch his children cheer as it tumbled to the ground, looking at their Father like he was the biggest hero on Earth.
Towards the last years of the business, the David children were a bit old to fall for this, but every year, they would come in and cheer for their Father like he was the biggest hero on Earth while he fake-cut down their Christmas Tree.
It is things like this that gives you faith in humanity, and I so miss it. All the children that told my Father who made the most awesome Santa Clause in the world what they wanted for Christmas, and how he would remember all their names...All the families that enjoyed the hot cocoa and stayed around listening to the Christmas music long after the Tree was tied to their cars...I even miss the damn Elf costume my crazy ass parents made me wear on the weekends...
So maybe it's not the fake tree's fault I hate it so. Maybe I don't hate it at all. Maybe I hate the Walmarts and the Super K's that came in with cheap trees and shrubs. Maybe I hate the fire that ravaged the Centre, and since business had gotten so slow my parents couldn't take the risk of reopening with their retirement money.
I know one thing is for sure. I bet Walmart doesn't really give a shit if a Father looks like a hero, if trees are replanted, or if Santa Claus has a photographic memory...