Sunday one of our grandsons wandered up to Juanita and I and said "I think the neighbor dog took something off one of the logs out front."
"Na." we said. "Ingrid's always bringing over balls and toys for us to throw for her." (Ingrid. What else do you name a German Shepard?)
Looked out the window and saw she did indeed have not 1, not 2, but 3 balls at her feet. Guarding them and wagging her tail.
Oh man, those aren't her balls, those are Christmas ornaments off the posts out front.
Kid says..."I TOLD you so."
When I was a kid, we always cut the family tree in the national forests down in New Mexico. My parents BOTH had slightly off kilter senses of humor, so our Christmas trees were usually rather... odd.
I attempted to keep up the tradition with my family, but could rarely talk them into a "good" tree more than every other year. If you ask them about their past Christmas trees, they will mostly contort their bodies into a rough approximation of one mutant tree or another while trying to describe one.
This year, we had a couple friends offer to cut us a tree when they went to cut their own. They know me so we got this...
I love the trunk. This poor tree survived at least 3 other attempts at killing it for decoration.
Juanita made me decorate it. So I did.