Searching for the perfect tree

It's not official, but we may be up for an award for Couple Spending the Most Amount of Time in the Artificial Christmas Tree Department--Without Buying Anything.

But that would not quite be true. We DID buy a tree. Sort of.

We are in this predicament because of our last Christmas tree, which gave up the ghost after several years of silently enduring being pushed and shoved in and out of the attic, twisted into just the right position for the placement of ornaments, and snarled at for being too large and not fitting nicely back into the toothpick-size container in which it had come. Near the end of its life, it had only a few working, prelit lights as its spirit slowly diminished and, finally, left altogether.

Let not tree purists think that they are the only ones who search for the perfect tree. In our own search for an artificial tree, we have been to five stores (six if you count going back to the same one again), agonizing over a choice that will from henceforth affect our Christmas cheer. A forever tree.

The Hero likens it to choosing a life partner: "Do you, Princess, take this tree, committing to its care for its natural-born days, loving it through its faults..."

But the problem was I didn't WANT it to have faults (just to clarify, we are talking about the tree here). The forever trees I was willing to commit to were no longer available, and the others had, shall we say, special needs. Or they required soaring cathedral ceilings, where we could offer them only cottage-type surroundings.

(As an aside, are makers of fake trees on a quest to make trees that look, if possible, even MORE fake? We have noticed a disturbing tend wherein there is more than one type of branch on a particular tree. I have my doubts that this trend was inspired by nature.)

It was a slow night at the last store we visited, and we debated so long over the trees on display that no doubt the employees were placing bets as to whether we would 1) actually take home a tree or 2) leave with no tree AND in separate cars.

If trees were people, the Hero wanted a Lilliputian. I wanted Gulliver. We ended up with Charlie Brown.

Yes, for roughly $21.99 you can buy an authentic Charlie Brown tree, complete with one decorative bulb that makes the top branches bend over so charmingly. We were sorry to disappoint the store employees who had placed bets; the Charlie Brown tree wasn't exactly a tree, but neither was it not a tree.

It just needs a little love, as the side of the box proclaims. Which we will give it, at least until next year, when the trees are on sale again and we can find our perfect, forever tree. With just one type of branch, please.