The guys at the tree lot sadly did not have this hairdo.
So, tonight I went with one of my frugal advisors to help her pick out a Christmas tree. We picked out a nice 7' somethingsomething fir, and arranged to have it deliver to her house later. The other option was to drive home with the tree strapped to the car... but this was all news to me.
Because? My fabulous frugal family used to walk the tree home from the tree lot. And I never realized that was unusual until today.
Remember how we never owned a car? One of the reasons to not have a car was that everything was within walking distance from our house, including grocery stores that had Christmas tree lots in December. I remember helping my father and sister, and sometimes mother, and sometimes other sister, to carry trees home from the lot on a few occasions.
Remember, we weren't carrying the tree back from the woods or anything.
Just from the tree lot about 15 minutes back to our house. On the sidewalk. In the city.
Important note: this wasn't a happy family thrifty journey as I also remember whining quite a lot about my hands being cold, the tree being heavy - despite how, being the littlest member of this tree-portage committee, I had almost no weight to actually carry. I was just along for the opposite of moral support (whining support?)
Anyway, the Christmas after my father passed away, my mother and I headed down to the tree lot to pick up our tree. We got a gorgeous one (I think the family trees were usually like 6' or 7') and waited as they sliced off the bottom and wrapped it in netting for us. And then began the walk back home.
In retrospect, being a family of book nerds, we could have just made a book tree.
As my mother and I trudged home, I vividly remember our arms gradually giving out, until it was like "Let's walk three more squares of sidewalk and then rest. And then two more squares of sidewalk and then switch arms. Oh my god this is heavy."
And then, what to our exhausted eyes should appear? But two Mormon missionaries! (Recognizable by their nice suit-and-tie outfits, wholesome appearance, and lack of practical winter coat in Canada in December) They sweetly helped us carry the tree the rest of the way home (I say "help" in the sense that they totally carried it themselves) and we chatted about where they were from in Utah and that sort of thing. No actually missionary-ing actually went on, which I thought was really cool of them. They were just doing a sweet thing for two overly ambitious tree-bearers.
The Mormons were our superheroes that snowy December day.
What was extra sweet is that, on Christmas morning, we found a DVD of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in our mailbox. Those guys were kind of awesome (and possibly angels and/or superheroes, if you want to be extreme about it).
What's the moral of the story? Basically, get them to deliver your tree, even if the lot is close to your house. Especially if one of the people carrying the tree is me and my stick arms. (My mother now gets her tree delivered, I believe - VERY SENSIBLE OF HER)