my christmas tree is up!

I'm always horrified when I hear about/see a Christmas tree in someone's home that looks like it belongs in a department store (I should qualify that by saying if it's the only tree in the house, I'm horrified. If it's your second tree, go to town). Yes, they look very nice and professional and interior decorators world wide clap their hands for joy to see it. My problem with them is that they have no personality. Where's the story behind each ornament? There isn't one. And part of the fun of decorating the Christmas tree is basking in the memories. Opening up my boxes upon boxes of Christmas decor is like reuniting with old friends (almost like unpacking books).

There's the box of Renaissance style bulbs with very Catholic-esque paintings of the Christmas story that I bought my first year away. There's the John Deere lunch box and the mini farm that reminds me of home. There's the gold ones in many shapes and sizes with my name and a year etched on them from my Grandma Joan...back when she used to actually be a grandma. There's the pickle that I hide somewhere in the branches for T-rav to find (imagine my shock when my German teacher told me about the German tradition of giving a reward for the one who finds the pickle. I always wondered why I had a glass pickle among my collection of ornaments until then). And then there's my favorite of all: a Pinocchio puppet from Italy whose legs fly up and down when you pull on a little string!

You just don't get that kind of reminiscing with a color-coordinated, "perfect" tree. At least I don't.

I feel like what I've written is something like a cheesy story I once heard in Relief Society...is there a story somewhere about ornaments?