Ho Ho Blog.

Lilly and I fetched a Christmas tree early this evening, before the weather got any worse. The fact that I buy a real tree every year means that I'm not a complete miser, since the price is high. Supposedly the Boy Scouts benefited from the transaction, but I'm not so sure. The fellow who took my money looked like his scouting days were long ago, if ever (I never was one either). They just happened to have to closest lot; when we lived in the western suburbs, it was a Presbyterian church that got our tree business.

It's a mid-sized Douglas fir, just a little taller than me. It fit inside the car, a distinct advantage. Lilly was giddy all the way home, so I guess I'm getting my money's worth. Naturally, our conversation had a Christmas flavor.

"Daddy, what does Santa Claus do on Thanksgiving?"

"Dinner with his family, probably."

"He has a family?"

"I think so. There's Mrs. Claus. But they're old, so they probably have grown children. Maybe their grandkids come to see them."

"Oh." She thought a minute. "If Santa dies, there are a lot more Santas. Or if he gets too old. There are a lot of Santas."

I couldn't disagree with that.