A tradition

Because it is the month of many traditions I would like to share on of ours.

But first, I must ask you a question. 

Have you seen this man?

No ?

Look again.

They are one in the same, you see.

 I married an authentic, bone-fide, modern day Clark W. Griswold.

He has passion for only a few things in life. 

Steak (as pictured) and CHRISTMAS.

That being the case, we go to greater lengths than most to

acquire our most beloved symbol of Christmas.

THE TREE.

The fact that we live a professional baseball pitch away from a Christmas tree lot is not even taken into account. We must travel. We must climb mountain. We must roam the wilderness waiting for the beams of heaven to shine down upon the perfect piney miracle. 

Then we must cram it into the back seat or our car.

Our first Christmas 

(actually, I think it was our second, but I like the the sound of first.)

Our First Christmas

Mountains

Perfect tree (which I spotted)

"Sparky" hauling it to the car

The car

THIS YEAR

Now, because Illinois does not provide us with the mountain ranges we are accustomed to scaling for our tree, we have to settle for a long drive and a tree farm. 

But traditions are important by damn!! They must be passed down through the generations.

Here is Clark Jr.

On the prowl  for perfection.

He may not have any mountains to climb, but there was plenty of mud to slog through.

My boy is getting so big.

I hate/love it.

la piece de resistance