O Tannenbaum

In point of comparison, I present to you the following:

a) The tree at Rockafeller Center, which JWR and I went and saw yesterday. It was the first time I'd seen it since an almost-failed attempt back when I lived in New York before:

So yeah, sure, it's majestic and extremely well lit and so on and so forth, but look at all those people. The "Rock" (as I am assured some people call it) was a good ten degrees warmer than the rest of the city just by virtue of all of the midwestern tourists crowding around.

b) The tree in my own living room, courtesy of JWR and our decorating ingenuity:

Now this tree, this tree is worthy of admiration. It came directly to us from the wilds of Maine, and JWR wrestled it into place while I was at work one night. This is a Christmas tree. New York City doesn't have anything on this.

We drink peppermint schnapps and water it twice a day--it's like a Christmas pet. We listen to Christmas songs and admire it from the couch. It stands there as a soothing reminder of what's to come now that the term is over and break is finally here.

And then, because we can't help ourselves, things like this happen:

And it becomes clear that Rockafeller Center could never be as awesome as two grown people dressing up for no other reason than to pose with a Christmas tree.
Right? Right. Right?