Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Meet Forest

Some days I wonder if I was a Mrs. Claus in a past life.

Every single year on November 1st, I scroll through my iTunes playlists to find my Christmas Favorites. It's something I have been doing for years - I completely remove myself from societies hit songs on the radio and opt for Christmas tunes instead. With the smell of a holiday air freshener hanging around my review mirror and the sound of Amy Grant coming out of the speakers - it's like I am in a snow globe or department store every time I travel down the interstate. On the flip side, November 1st is a little early for most, including the man I married. He threatens to throw my Christmas CDs out the window every time he gets in my car and may actually divorce me if I purchase another Christmas album. How many versions of Silent Night can there really be?

He's the Grinch in our house, while I am all Cindy Lou Who over here, trying to get his heart to grow just a little each day. I exaggerate. Just a tad. He really does love Christmas, he just doesn't agree with listening to Christmas music two months in advance and doesn't actually join in the spirit until one week before. Not twelve days, or ten days, or even eight days, but literally seven days before. In fact, I tried to convince him to watch "A Miracle on 34th Street" Sunday night and he said, "It's not the week before Christmas." I replied, "Yes it is." He corrected me, "On Tuesday it will be." I grimaced, "Fine! I guess I can wait 2 more days."

However, he and my brother did string one strand of Christmas lights outside, which is great, but I'd love a Clark Gris Boreswold around here. Ya know, our tree in the front yard would really look great with some twinkly lights too, along with the porch railing and maybe some wreaths in the front windows? Definitely not one of those blow up enormous Santa's though. Gosh, I want to pop every single one in the neighborhood. Maybe the Grinch I live with is rubbing off on me? Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas lights - but a tasteful amount. I can guarantee NO ONE wants to see 15 Santa's, Winnie the Pooh's, Mickey Mouse's, Snowmen and Charlie Brown's blown up in a yard the size of my bedroom. You can stroll the aisles at Walmart and Lowes if you want to show your kids that madness.

I may retract that statement when I have Bores babies. Just maybe.


Anyway, I would like to introduce Forest Bores. Find it odd that I name my tree? Don't judge. It's just a little something I like to do. I grew up with an artificial tree and never had a real one until I moved to Colorado. Our Christmas Tree Hunt is now one of my favorite days of the year. It's a holiday in my book, hence why I capitalized the letters. The last 4 years we have found our trees at the local nursery or off a milk truck hauling trees in from Wisconsin. True story.

This year Mr. B convinced me to hike into the National Forest and cut down our very own Charlie Brown tree. I finally gave in - not because I wanted a Charlie Brown tree, but because I knew the experience would be totally worth it.

We headed towards the mountains the Saturday after Thanksgiving, hauling two car loads of people - my family, my brothers girlfriend, a great friend from Oregon (also, another Grinch!) and Monty of course. We parked the cars and realized we didn't need the snowshoes we packed or the layers of clothes we brought with us. It was the most beautiful winter day and we were off to find the perfect spruce.

My Mama and her Kiddos
Grinch #2

We gathered around a few different trees discussing the limbs, the height, and sparse-ness. Then finally settled on the second one we had picked. It was definitely sparse, but it was tall and slim. Exactly what we had in mind.

My brother had been talking about cutting down a tree for weeks at this point. He came prepared and even dressed the part. He had done research in advance on the proper way to cut down a tree. So there we were, with our knees in the snow, cutting a V-shaped notch. I am far from a lumberjack, and learned pretty quickly that you should not cut straight across and then yell TIMBER. That's only in cartoons. The whole cutting down process took about 4 minutes, before Forest was lying sideways in the snow. We picked it up, snapped a few photos and then threw it in the bed of the truck.

The Gang

Pretending they Snow-Shoed

We hauled the tree home, brought it in the house, trimmed a foot off the bottom, debated having a star or not, and then got to trimming the following day.

Little did I know, this would be my favorite Bores tree yet.

Forest Bores, 2013
Elvis - it represents the love my dad had for the King
Camp Bores Ornaments - hand made by Mrs. B
Tutorial Here
Stockings hung by the fire with care...

There is a little glimpse of what is going on in the Bores House this Christmas.

May your heart grow three times it's size this week. I know I will be soaking up each and every minute, starting today. It's exactly one week before Christmas, so maybe Mr. B will actually stop threatening to toss my Christmas CD's out the window and be willing to snuggle and watch dear little Susan Walker become a believer.

In the mean time, you can watch my terrible attempt at lighting Forest [at the 0:25 mark]. I had no idea which end of the strand you start with and obviously chose the wrong one. That responsibility will go back to Mr. B next year.

Trimming the Tree

from Scott Bores on Vimeo.

Meet Nordman, our 2012 Christmas Tree. 

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