Welcome to the adventures of the Walter sisters in the frozen tundra of Chicago. I hear that Seattle is calling it the "snowpocalypse." Charming, except that it was -26 degrees today in Palatine. We win.
I would like to say, though, that living in the Pacific Northwest and Egypt for the past 5 years is enough to make me lose my midwest cred. My sister and I went out in the arctic freeze to finish our Christmas shopping today. Terribly ill-equipped for Chicago winters after turning my closet Seattle-hipster-esque, my converse sneakers kept my toes from going numb for all of 2 minutes, and I had an Islamic hijab wrapped around my throat like a scarf to try to keep me warm. My Chicago-native little sister? -26 degrees, and she wore a knee-length cotton skirt. No pants. No longjohns. No parka. I was owned.
Tragically, my parents are out in Seattle (my homeland away from home) for the weekend, braving a Seahawks game in the snow out there. A family that freezes together, stays together, right?
Right before my dad left, as I was dying from the stomach flu and buried under a mountain of blankets (which seems to be the posture of the month, thanks to two cases of food poisoning and this recent funk), he suddenly remembered that it was December 20th, and we had no Christmas tree. Whoops. "Hey, liss, do you think you and Lauren could go pick up a tree this weekend?"
Sure, dad, once I'm able to stand without doubling over to retch into the snowbanks.
Feeling better the following morning, though, the challenge was on. Here we are: a 16 year old and 23 year old, both 5 foot five and uh, not about to intimidate any linebackers anytime soon, and it was our mission to find a 7 foot tree, tie it to the roof of my mom's minivan, get it down, and screw it into the christmas tree stand. The Christmas tree stand, I should mention, that my dad accidently left outside before the last big snowfall. Read: buried in an unidentified location under a foot of snow somewhere in the front yard. This was going to be epic.
Bracing ourselves with a cup of hot chocolate, we scraped off the seagreen mini-van and skidded down the icy streets to downtown Palatine, looking for the Christmas tree lot. When we arrived, there was no one there. A dozen or so trees were laying on their side, the untouchables of the unwanted Christmas trees. Peculiar.
As we trudged through 6 inches of snow to examine the fallen Christmas trees (again, in my converse sneakers...not doing the trick, I'm afraid), a woman emerged from a heated trailer/office thing. Oh, you mean most people have bought their Christmas trees already, before December 20th? We have 15 minutes to buy one or they're gone? Right....ah, that one looks good.
What normally is an hour long ritual of comparing branch thickness, fatness, general shape (pear is nicest, I think), color, and feng shui, we settled in about 15 seconds. A man came by with a hand saw. "Do you want a fresh cut?" he asked me.
"Yes. No. I mean, I don't think we need one. Do we? Um, whatever you think. I've never bought a Christmas tree before," I blurted out like an underage kid in a liquor store.
A man in an autographed (?) blue coat held together by bits of duct tape walked up. I think he was the owner. Happily, he gave us lots of advice (yes, fresh cut), instructions (boiling water in the stand the first day, 7-up after that), and strange pointers (wait to decorate until the second day, when the needles apparently all lay down?).
The first man sawed off the end of the tree then lifted the puppy by himself and started walking it towards our car. Hmm, uh, we didn't bring any rope...Lauren, can you try to put the seats down?
Looking entirely incompetent, we finally managed to wedge the tree into our backseat. Safely back in the car with Christmas carols blaring on the radio, we giggled. $20 and 5 minutes later, we had bought our very own Christmas tree.
The next challenge was unearthing the tree stand. We surveyed the frozen landscape. The front yard was coated in an even layer of new, uninterrupted snow. Why my dad put our Christmas tree stand outside was beyond me. Near the garage door, I saw a small lump. Perhaps that was it. We boiled a pot of hot water and started pouring it around the snow until a piece of it emerged. Eureka! Treasure hunting in the snow. New holiday tradition, maybe? I went to get a shovel to start unburying it, but totally wiped out on a patch of black ice in the process. Ok, this was actually starting to get old.
Once the snow was cleared off, we realized that it was actually frozen to the ground and filled with ice in the center. Three pots of boiling water and lots of hacking later, we finally broke off all the last bits of dirt. Now, the unhappiest half hour of the entire year for the Walter family is setting up the Christmas tree in the stand. It always includes lots of near-swearing, unnecessary shouts of precautions to watch out for that picture frame or that window, lots of contradicting shouts to move it further to the right or the left. Knowing that the task must be formidable, I was a little nervous.
Lauren and I went back to the van to unwedge our tree from the back seat. For a hasty selection, it's actually quite attractive--nice, fat, and pear shaped. Just how I like 'em. We carried in the tree and set it in the stand. Lauren held it as I shimmied along the floor under the tree to reach the screws. Four screws tightened. We stood back to check out work. Perfect. Done. 4 minutes flat--take that, dad. We celebrated with Jimmy Johns and Chinese delivery (my sister, ever the picky eater, ordered a cheese sandwich. Not even toasted or grilled. Just two pieces of cold cheese on bread. Lauren, c'mon, I could have made that for you--I have some culinary skills!)
Thus ended the saga of the Christmas tree--we decorated it last night and it's now standing plump and pretty in the corner of our living room. Christmas wishes to you all--I hope you're keeping warm!
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