I am still in pain. And I was right -- no visible bruise thus far. I was wrong, however, about being fine with that. Part of me wishes I could see the injury, but that's because I'm a morbid freak who finds watching bruise-healing a fascinating biological process. Come on, I can't be the only one! Oh, I am? Well, then. Moving on...

My hand only really hurts when I push down on something, so my verdict is still "bruised" as opposed to "fractured." Let's hope I'm right!

In other news, I've been coming across quite a few entries about people who have a hard time getting into the Christmas spirit. A girl at work told me she hates nothing more than to hear Christmas music as early as Thanksgiving. And, well, I just cannot relate at all.

The day after Thanksgiving, Joe and I started listening to the all-day Christmas cable station on our t.v. while we sleep. We actually pump it through the stereo so that the t.v. itself can remain off, which is nice, because that means the change of of lighting that occurs on the screen every time a new song comes on doesn't wake us up.

The weekend after Thanksgiving, Joe and I put up our tree. And I already told you about the whole Santa escapade we went through. We are Christmassy people, is what I'm saying.

One of the things that most signifies Christmas for me is the Christmas tree. It never seems like Christmas until the tree is trimmed. It's one of my favorite holiday traditions. One of my only ones, too!

The tree Joe and I have is kind of pitiful, somewhat reminiscent of Charlie Brown's. It looks a little sparse, especially when the branches are out of alignment. We arrange them so that the tree looks as full as possible, but the cats are not helping by jumping into it and using it as a scratching post. Joe insists it's better than them scratching the carpet or our computer chairs. Still, I'm always afraid the poor thing's going to topple down every time it shakes under the torture of razor kitty claws. So far, my fears have all been for naught, and the tree is still standing. I'm crossing my fingers it'll stay that way.

We got the tree at Target two years ago, the first Christmas we spent in the Bay Area (the Christmas before we moved up here, when we still lived in L.A., Joe actually built a spiral light tree -- it was SO cool!). We have one string of lights for our tree that's actually a bit too long, as well as a brand new tree topper we got this year. And really, it looks just beautiful. I love this tree!

As a kid, my family always had live trees. We never did the whole fake tree thing. I loved it. Every year, the tree was different. One year it was super tall and the needles were so dry we all scratched ourselves putting ornaments on it. My brother helped my dad set it up and scratched his hand quite a bit through the gloves he was wearing. Another year, we had a small tree. We couldn't fit quite as many ornaments on it, but it looked beautiful nonetheless. Another year, I insisted we get a Douglas Fir because on one episode of Twin Peaks, that was the kind of tree Special Agent Dale Cooper said he liked. I was the show's only ten year old fan! (I even wrote to Kyle MacLachlan once and was sent an autographed photo in return, which I immediately framed and hung above my bed!) My family indulged me, and that's what we got that year!

We always had a ton of lights and boxes of ornaments scattered across the floor as we attempted to trim the tree each year. There was never any kind of theme whatsoever, just a bunch of stuff we'd collected as a family. The reindeer one of my brothers made in kindergarten, the wreath I made in my second grade class out of glue, oatmeal, and green food coloring, with my picture in the center, lots of birds, and apples, and other random stuff, all adorned our trees year after year. The details of the ornaments themselves don't stand out as much as the feelings of happiness and laughter that filled the room each holiday season. Trimming the tree always seemed like a chore until we were doing it, and then it was simply a lot of fun. It was Christmas!

When it came time for Joe and I to have Christmasses of our own, we knew we wanted a tree. One night, we travelled to Home Depot. We must not have been there specifically for a tree, because I remember us feeling surprised and excited to see the whole lot of them in the parking lot. "Let's go look at trees!" Joe said excitedly. So we did, and as we walked among them, my chest grew tighter and tighter and I began to cough. Then I couldn't stop coughing. I couldn't breathe! I quickly walked away from the trees and Joe followed me, and we realized one very sad fact: I've become allergic to Christmas trees.

I was a little sad about getting a fake tree at first, but then I realized they can be pretty great. When I think about it, trees dying in peoples' living rooms across the country every holiday season kind of bums me out. No, there's not a different tree each year. And no, there's no pine (or Douglas Fir) scent in our home each December (which is, apparently, a very good thing for my sake!). But there is a tree, and it's our tree. Joe and I put the lights and topper on together. We turn off the halogen lamp in the living room and snuggle on the couch, basking in the glow of the Christmas lights. We're creating our own holiday memories, and that, to me, is what makes Christmas so special.