Our Very Own Christmas Pageant

(NOTE: Under pressure from friends, I meant to post this about 5 days before Christmas. Insecurity about posting on the internet under the pretense that others might like it kept me from posting until now. So just imagine yourself back into the Christmas spirit!! Enjoy. :-)

Today, my family went and got a Christmas tree. Yes, I know. Most people try to get a Christmas tree at a date that gives them plenty of time to enjoy it. But between all of us in my family, there is SO much procrastination going on and so much of a bent towards non-traditionalism (We like to be different. We are sort of hipsters.) that it never happens until about 5 days before Christmas.

Because we spent ten years in Morocco—a place where bargaining is à la mode—my Dad has never really gotten bargaining out of his system. Whenever we go shopping, he preps us on our roles. Yes, our “roles”. In bargaining, one uses strong exaggeration (lying) to get a good price. Today, my mom was playing the role of Woman Who Just Woke Up From a Coma. Supposedly, when she woke up from the coma, she grunted two words: “Christmaaas treeee”, apparently her only wish.

My 90-year-old grandfather was playing the role of Old Man Who Doesn’t Have Long to Live. Not surprisingly, my grandfather (never one to pass up a “’lil joke”, as he calls them) accepted the role eagerly, adding in his own embellishments:  “Tell him I might drop dead at any minute!”, etc, etc.

I was not given a role. I guess my giggling has gotten the best of me over the years and I am not a trusted actress anymore. This is the same reason I never get very far in that "Honey, if you love me..." game. Or that I had to learn the sign language alphabet in middle school to talk with my friends after I had been "offered" a seat on the other side of class (not the fastest form of communication, by the way).

Anyway, after we reached the Christmas tree farm, my father sidled up to the bored-looking, 20-something, rugged (if you say “rugged” without the “ly handsome”, does it really mean anything?) Christmas tree selling guy. Like an old pro, my father laid out the scene before Mr. Rugged. He told him about my coma-stricken mother and my old, old, old grandfather. My grandfather waved cheerily from the car.

Anyhow, we got about $12 off the original price. My Dad attributes this to his wonderful drama skills. I think it’s because Christmas is in 5 days and only the dregs of society are still out buying their trees.