Normally I would say that I am someone who is quick on her feet. It is a rare occasion when a witty response can’t be found at the tip of my (somewhat wicked) tongue. But even this sarcastic heart has moments of weakness... moments when the world shifts on its axis, and the kneejerk verbal reflex is paralyzed.
I experienced one of “those” moments this past weekend when I went to get my Christmas tree...
After tediously picking out the perfect tree, I watched as the tree was placed on a giant vibrator and violently shaken until any loose needles fell to the ground (oddly enough, my thoughts didn't derail for a moment at the sight of the giant vibrator). Next, the charming Christmas tree farmers proceeded to complete the transaction, and departed to load the freshly cut tree into my truck.
Patiently waiting, I took a deep breath of the crisp December air, and was whimsically carried away by the Christmas spirit. For a few moments I stood there pondering the many reasons I had to be thankful... The glorious sunshine touching my face, the intoxicating smell of all the Christmas trees, the wonderful people in my life, the excitement of knowing my family would soon be gathered, the joy of being able to give to others… You know… the sappy crap that old school Christmas movies are all about.
Unfortunately, at this point my Hallmark movie moment came to an abrupt end. A loud, burly voice crashed through my mental oasis like a freight train! “I don’t know what size tampons you use, hope it’s the small ones, they work the best,” said the scruffy man.
Hhhhhhmmmm… Seeing that returning to my sentimental sanctuary was no longer an option, I decided to engage the flannel-loving farmer who was inquiring about the contents of my bathroom cabinet. I replied playfully, “Well, this has now become the most interesting conversation of the day! Oh please tell me what tampons have to do with you, selling me, a Christmas tree.” The two men went on to tell me their secret to having an award winning Christmas tree every year (yes, there are actual competitions). Apparently, if you want your tree to remain hydrated throughout the long holiday season, there are a few tricks of the trade that only the most elite are privileged to know.
With a sense of profound pride (and absurd seriousness), these fine gentlemen explained that the big secret was to drill a hole in the trunk and… insert a tampon. One cannot make this up. I proceeded to learn that doing so creates a perfectly crafted wick. Thus, water will be drawn up into the tree’s interior, increasing its absorption and hydration. Additionally, the first time you water your tree, boil the water in a kettle first, and pour it in while it is still hot. After this you can relax a bit, future watering is allowed at room temperature.
I would have never expected that my Christmas tree experience would include a vibrator, a tampon, and an all-too-friendly farmer. However, I am pleased to say that the tampon was inserted properly, and so far my tree is thriving.