A Random Image

the one where I’m right, where we create happy family memories and where everyone sort of panics all rolled up into one post

Yesterday the five of us piled into the Magic Superior Stealth vehicle to do our annual Sunday-after-Thanksgiving trek to the Christmas tree farm. The local one a scant five minutes away closed lo these five years ago so we managed to find Beavers Christmas Tree Farm in Trafford, which is a forty-five minute drive.

There’s a lot of backwoods, down-homey goodness on the drive, so I stuffed the props for our Christmas card photos into my camera bag just in case I happened to see a suitable backdrop as we ticked off miles.

About halfway in I saw this abandoned building with the coolest ever tile, so I went to hollering, “That’s it, that’s it!”

“We’ll swing back by on our way home.”

“Maxim, it’s two. It will begin getting dark at four. If we get lost again and lose all the light, I will make you pay for days and days and days.”

We’re not going to get lost, Jett.” He said this with the distinct air of someone who implied, ridiculous woman!, as if said woman had not lived this scenario roughly a thousand times before the specific one in front of her.

I did the pursing my lips thing. We’ve gotten lost every single year since we’ve found this farm. Thing is, we always make a wrong turn a mere handful of minutes away from the place. It’s like it exists in the Twilight Zone, because no matter where we stop for accurate directions, the locals have never even heard of the dang place. That, or they get their jollies fucking with the tree traffic; what else is there to do in the middle of the Hellabama boonies?

We made not one wrong turn, but backtracked and made three of them. It was a record.

You know the rest of the story, I would imagine. We did the standard tree farm horsing around and marching the entire back forty and letting the kids ride the tractor-pulled flat trailer stacked with hay bales. We got hot chocolate and cider, chitchatted with the proprietress (who always remembers our family!), waited for the tree shaking and netting and hey, what do you know? When we loaded up it was starting to go dark.

My familytime-induced bliss melted a little from the heat generated when I glared at Maxim. “You better drive like a complete idiot, my good man.”

Several I-believe-it’s-just-up-around-this-next-bends and a nearly-night sky later, we found the place and Maxim hurriedly pulled in while I hustled up the kids.

“WE ARE LOSING THE LAST TRACES OF LIGHT. MOVE YOUR NARROW BEHINDS.” This for the boys, who move notoriously slowly as a rule. This is especially true of Mathias, who is so unhurried and precise in his doings so as to maybe appear to be going in reverse; this is a trait that he of course inherited from the hippie and not from me. It is probably at the top of the list entitled Things About My Kinfolk That Make Me Stabby and it also occupies the first six slots because that is the degree to which it sends me reeling into abject stabbiness.

Sam, Scout and Mathias were in position, getting their J. Crew on when I noticed the tiny little hiccup known as dead batteries. I hate to be barky, because assholes are barky, but it was Maxim’s fault that I was that way because HELLO WE COULD HAVE STOPPED ON OUR WAY TO THE FUCKING TREE FARM (such! a little! requessssst!) BUT NO. So I got barky about the spare batteries that were parked in my camera bag back there in our vehicle. Maxim exhibited a rare shagging of the ass to go get them, and after a hasty changeout I lifted the viewfinder to my face to be greeted with the phrase ‘NO MEMORY CARD, DUMBASS’ when I mashed the clicky picturey magicks button.

@!#$%*!! and also a;elrkqao[rghjn! I’d left it in the computer at home. I wanted to whack myself repeatedly in the forehead with the camera, but remembered I am broke and cannot afford another.

“Wait!” Scout, Most Valuable Child of the Day, exclaimed, “I have a memory card with me!” She ran to fetch it out of her laptop and I sang her praises, inserted it into the memory slot and began to fire away.

One picture. I was allowed one picture before I got a ‘media full’ message, because Scout apparently likes to tote around eight gigs of personal photography with her. Important, insanely artsy bits of photographic genius like a series consisting of all her favorite flats and fifty shots of her making what I call MySpace Mouth. Photos which, as I recall, are backed up in various places on the web and on two separate computers.

Damn. It. Damnit, damnit, damnit.

“HERE.” She responded to my annoyance with some of her own and shot out a hand that expected to be filled with camera. Scout then proceeded to generously delete all of five photos so that I could pop off a hasty series of six poorly-staged, horribly lit, half-assed shots.

christmas greetings, earthlings
:: christmas greetings, earthlings ::

Not quite what I was wanting and/or planning on, but the recipients of this year’s Christmas card are gonna *love* it.

7 worked it out »

  1. troutie 11.30.2009

    So your tree’s trimmed, your livingroom’s decorated AND you’ve photoed your photo? Dang, woman.

  2. Bejewell 12.1.2009

    Best. Christmas. Photo. Ever. (With the sole exception of my card last year, which was my husband asleep with a dog’s ass in his face. Because that was just perfection.) even with the ’stache makeovers, those are some handsome procreations you’ve got there

  3. TwoBusy 12.1.2009

    Your little’uns are especially cute. Also: especially hairy.

    Also, thank you for the inspiration to get my own ass in gear next weekend and head off to THE FUCKING TREE FARM.

  4. Holmes 12.2.2009

    I digs it.

  5. Jettomatika 12.2.2009

    Troutie: I usually prepare like this because I want to focus on what I believe Christmas actually is and I want the air around my home and family to be calm and joyful and serene. The last couple of years I let it slip and I *hated* the rushed, stressed quality to the season.

    beej and TwoBusy: Thank you, I am rather fond of them myself!

    Holmes: You should do this with your kids, I think it’d be hilarious to see on itty-bitties.

  6. Rook Ie 12.3.2009

    Ohmigod. Best picture. I love it. It’s a lot better than those christmas cards of everyone sitting in front of that quintessential holiday scene. Somehow in every one of those pictures I’ve ever received, everyone seems confused about where to look.

    A++ For originality.

  7. Mo 12.8.2009

    In my humble opinion locals do not normally know where things are because when asked the destination is not pronounced in the local-yocal accent.


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