Guest Post: Surviving the Christmas Tree Hunt

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A guest post by Courtney Chaffee

This Christmas season has once again brought insight into my life with my husband Scott.

A wise woman once said to me, “Most men are a handful, Scott is two handfuls.”He is proving this to be true.

Last weekend, we set out to get the "Chaffee Family Christmas Tree." We drove straight into the woods -- past the boy scout tree lot, Safeway, and any option of getting an artificial tree. See, Scott insists that we “hunt” our tree. This is similar to hunting an animal, except the tree does not leave tracks, so he says it is more difficult.

When we walked into the office, Scott proudly stated “One tree permit please, and how big of a tree can I cut down with that permit?”

Miss Ranger saw him coming from a mile away. She told him, “Well, for $10 you can get a 12-foot tree, but for $20 you can cut down a 20-foot tree!”

His eyes lit up like the LED lights he insists on putting on the house. I honestly could have killed her. If only she knew how much I would now have to give up to bargain with Scott not to buy the 20-foot tree.

She had her sales pitch all lined up. “Well, if it is too tall, or wide, you can cut off part and make wreathes or garland.”

Scott said, “Ohhhhh, Court, you love to make crap like that.”

Five minutes, two life threats, and a promise to go hiking in the south back country at Crystal Mountain a number of times, Griswold gave up the dream of a 20-foot tree for this year.

We parked and hiked into the woods where his tracking abilities told him there would be a large herd of defenseless trees. I followed the trail, but Scott turned into a gazelle and ran up the hillside, saw in hand, to the “mother-load” of Christmas trees. After I found him, we found a tree.

Scott would not settle for anything less than 12 feet, so once he cut the tree down, he physically laid down twice in the snow to measure it out. He figured he is 6’2,” so this is a fool-proof way to measure the tree. Who looked like the fool though? I’m sure this is how Sacajawea measured things, because she must have forgotten her tape measure while tracking and leading Lewis and Clark like Scott did.

Once we got the monster-of-a-tree home, we put it up in the living room in corner by the windows so everyone could see it. We could barely get the tree topper on. The branches were crashing into the blinds and one branch was sitting completely on the couch like it was relaxing from a hard day’s work. The tree was “a little full, lot of sap.”It took me a good amount of time to craft the old growth into something we could put into a home. I felt like Michelangelo sculpting The David out of pine.

Of course, Scott was not around for anything of this. He pretty much dumped it off in the stand and ran out the door. He left me with pruners, lights, and a ladder. It was my version of “Survivor: A Christmas Edition.” I put on some Christmas music to set the mood and started the one thing I wait all year to do. I was feeling happy, and for a moment was excited that Scott talked me into this huge tree.

The moment was short-lived. All 12 feet of the tree came crashing down on me. I can guarantee you this did not happen to Michelangelo with The David. I somewhat caught it, but a better term would be that I just broke the tree’s fall.

Where was Mr. Griswold who decided that we had to have this tree? I had no idea, and I didn’t even have my phone on me to call him to save me from being swallowed whole by the tree.

This is where I took a moment of reflection on my life. As I was pinned under a HUGE Christmas tree, I had nothing other to do than reflect. This really had turned into “Survivor: A Christmas Edition” and so had my life: “Survivor: You Married Scott Chaffee.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Everything is just a little harder with my husband. Examples:

SCOTT: “Hey Court, here are your skis. I grabbed them out of the garage for you this morning.” ME: “Thanks, but why are they so slick?” SCOTT: “Oh, I spilled a little oil on them, but I think they will be fine” ME: [Going down the hill] “AHHHHHHHHHHH”

SCOTT: “Look! I got new shoes!” ME: “Finally, thank you” ME: “What is on the heel???” SCOTT: “Oh they are Heelys. Wanna go to the mall and race?”

SCOTT: “Hey, I want to take you to a movie tonight.” ME: “Oh great, I’ve been dying to see that new one with Jennifer Aniston.” SCOTT: “Oh, um, I meant something at the $2 cinema. The Jennifer Aniston movie is brand new”

I stick it out because, in the end, I get everything I want: A Christmas tree, my skis carried for me, Scott buying new shoes, and a movie. It’s just an exciting ride to get there. It’s just a curvy road, and a little uphill.

Happy Birthday, Amanda!

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IMG_3929 I’ve spent the past few days in Indiana for our annual holiday trip. We alternate celebrating Amanda’s birthday and Christmas in Indiana, and we’re on a birthday year.

Amanda’s birthday is today, and I gave her a package of dog-training lessons (Amanda’s doing great, Gianna needs the lessons.) That’s not the most romantic gift, I know, but a gift that should keep on giving.

Most people already know how Amanda is awesome. Many people who knew me first have realized they got a good deal for putting up with me long enough to befriend Amanda. I thought now’s a good time to express some of the reasons why I admire her so much.

Humor: Amanda is hilarious in a peculiar way. In fact, Amanda threw me off when we first met because she uses the word “hilarious” as a catch-all to describe any person or scenario that is abnormal, funny, or strange. It’s her own vague definition that I’m still trying to figure out in practice. Amanda always looks to make people laugh and does so in mostly physical ways. She’s like a modern Lucille Ball. She’ll dress up, contort her face, launch into impressions, etc. She laughs with people, never at them. Our friend Daisha says, “Amanda is the funniest person I know.” I think people share that sentiment because they associate time spent with her with laughing. She also has a great sense of humor, always finding good intent and faking a laugh just to make the joker feel good, which is good news for me.

Fearlessness: Amanda’s brother Ty told me a story about a time when teenage Amanda – a naturally gifted athlete and runner – heard about a school-record track time that she said she could run. Her brother challenged her on the spot. Amanda didn’t bother to change out of her jeans before she shot out the door to challenge the time running the same distance. She came back home at approximately the same time as the record, hardly breathing hard or sweating, as Ty recalled. Now a high school cross-country coach, Ty tells the story to his girl’s team as motivation as the time Amanda ran casually would still qualify for a state race today. I don’t know a sport, competition or challenge Amanda won’t try.

Compassion: Amanda has an incredible heart, especially for people in a bad spot. When she was young, her Dad says she’d get an allowance on vacations and would give all the money to the first homeless person she saw. I’ve picked up the phone several times and she’s on the other end asking if she can sponsor a child in Africa because the mission guy she’s talking to on the street is so nice and we can afford to help. I always imagine the World Vision person looking at her curiously as she probably contemplates the decision with more research and passion on the spot than any other passerby. In early adulthood, Amanda has volunteered through church groups and led troubled youth in outdoors camps. She’s been a great support for me and all of our friends and family in difficult times. She’s a steady rock for those she knows and doesn’t.

Prayer: Amanda is a great Christian, but this isn’t meant to be a religious compliment. I went to church frequently when I attended Catholic grade school, but I don’t remember a lot that the priest said over the years. I was busy coloring. But I remember him saying once: “Your best prayers aren’t for yourself.” In that respect, Amanda is an example. She looks out for you. Whether it be church or meditation or yoga poses, I often feel like I focus on myself too much, and I see other people in those acts focusing on their center, their interests, their peace of mind. That's fine, but the more we help each other, the better we all end up. Amanda always prioritizes others in her prayers and reflections. She focuses her emotions and energies unselfishly, and we are all blessed to receive that affection.

For these and many more reasons, I'm a proud husband!

Happy birthday, Amanda! You are loved.

My Dog Speaks Spanish

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"Surprises" are the fun part of adopting an adult dog. I'm not talking about the "surprises" it might leave on your carpet while you're at work (hasn't happened to us yet, knock on wood). I mean trying to figure out the dog's past and why it behaves the way it does. We sometimes ask our dog, "Did you have babies?" or "What food did you eat?" or "Why do you stand on your hind legs when we say 'sit'?"

The only detail we really know about Gianna's past is that she came from the Wenatchee Humane Society by way of Twisp, a tiny town tucked behind the North Cascades.

Last night, I randomly said something in Spanish and noticed the dog's ears perk up. It struck me then that a Hispanic family might have raised her, which would explain why she doesn't respond to some basic commands despite her clearly good training.

Right then, I rattled off a lot of Spanglish: "por favor," "taco," "gato," "Mexi fries," "qual es tu numero de telefono," "pero," etc. Her ears continued to perk up either because she understood me or was confused by what I was saying. That's one more option than I usually get.

After the reaction ramble, I focused, got her attention and commanded "sientate" (sit), which I recalled Moos saying when she was about to serve dinner or I was blocking the TV. I responded well to the command myself, after some repetition.

Immediately, Gianna sat. I have a Spanish-speaking (or understanding) dog! Bueno! No wonder she wasn't listening to me before, she didn't understand English!

It's a good thing we named her with a romantic-language name otherwise she might have denied it! All this time, I've left the TV on ABC or NBC during the day when she'd rather preferred Telemundo!

She reconfirmed the discovery later when I let her out the front door. Usually, I let her out and she just sits on the porch and waits because, like most women, she likes to take a friend along with her to the bathroom.  This time, I commanded, "baño" (bathroom) and she popped a squat right then and there!

Now, this could all be coincidence. She really pays attention to everything I say, even if she doesn't adhere to a command. She hadn't been outside for several hours and drank a gallon of water before she went to the bathroom. Also, tone is everything in a command and I'm sure I could say "Lady Gaga" in the same tone and she'd sit and shake.

Still, given her reactions last night, she understood something. Or at least she's bilingual. Collies are smart like that.