That Time of Year

Ron Nagasawa
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Wednesday - December 10, 2008
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‘Twas two weeks before Christmas, when at the Nagasawa house, something was up with my beautiful spouse; I thought that this year my nerves would be spared, but it was tree-buying time and then I was scared.

Tajiri had trees nestled snug on their lot, while visions of last year, I had not forgot. My wife with her obsession for that perfect tree, always had me wanting to flee.

We arrived on the lot and she made quite a clatter; she said, “Show me some trees!” And then I tried to scatter.

Away to hide, I flew like a flash; but she wanted to see their Christmas tree stash. The lot helpers, who over years I now know, saw my wife coming and they wanted to go.

When to her wandering eyes should appear, but a row of containers filled with trees for her to clear. A local lot helper seemed lively and quick, he must have been new, either that or just sick.

She whistled and shouted and called out by name; “Now seven foot, now eight foot and maybe a nine, bring me some trees so I can find mine.”

They opened them up so that she could see, and all she could say was, “Not good enough for me.”

After five trees, the lot guy was tired, but my wife wanted more to make her inspired. He spoke not a word but went back to his work. I did nothing to help him, I was quite the jerk.

My wife laid her fingers aside of her cheek and went back to the first tree for another peek. That’s right, despite all of that, she wanted the first one, and the guy nearly fell flat.

It’s a yearly tradition, that gives my wife glee. “Merry Christmas to all and thank God you’re not me!”


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