We went Christmas Tree shopping with our dear friends this morning (We love you so much, Kris and David) and I can’t help but think about how this simple feat seemed to be a test of our marriage every single year. You would think that bringing home a sweet smelling fraser fir while dancing to a little Bing Crosby and slowly sipping on some hot cocoa with the one you love would be one of those moments of absolute wedded bliss …Ha! But I guess when you’re wrestling with an eight foot prickle monster, trying to balance it just right in the stand so that it doesn’t tip over for the third year in a row… let’s just say that this experience didn’t always bring out the best in us. But after the tree was trimmed and the house was all cleaned up, we’d always sit on the couch, snuggle up together, just admiring the smell and the sight of it all, taking in the magic of the season and Mark would say, “Are we really gonna do this ‘real tree thing’ again next year?” “Yep.” I’d say. And he would just smile and shake his head. One of the few times Mark would be at a loss for words.