Now, If Only I Had A Matching Kermit

Today we got our Christmas tree. We purchased it from outside of a grocery store. I'm trying not to be depressed by that fact. Apparently, Christmas trees aren't a high priority here in the Beehive state. But this isn't a post about how depressed I am at not frequenting a local cut-your-own tree farm. It's not a blog about how we tried to crop the store logo out of the pictures so that we can lie to Garrett and he'll never find out that the year he moved was also the year his mother stooped to an all-time Christmas tree low. It's a post about decorating the store bought pine.

It's a post about hanging the ceremonial first ornament.

Ms. Piggy is her name. Protecting the back of the tree, the one against the wall, is her game. I don't have a clue when Ms. Piggy came into my life. I don't remember a Christmas without her. I do remember the Christmas that she almost left my life forever. She was wrapped up as a white elephant gift for a party my parents were attending. I had given the okay for my parents to give her away, after all, she's the most hideous Christmas ornament ever. She's, um, supposed to be some kind of piggy angel. She has a piece of pipe cleaner shaped like a halo hanging over her hair. She has wings made out of paper and trimmed with glitter sticking out of her head. Yes, her head. Piggy has no body. Just a big ole annoying head. And a snout. And gigantic blue eyes. And a pearl necklace. So anyway, my parents took her as a white elephant gift. Then they brought her home. After the exchange had begun, my dad had second thoughts, the pig had been residing on the back (and probably sometimes the front) of our tree for years. He decided I wasn't ready to part with my pig. I think truthfully, he was maybe not ready to let her go to what would have surely been the trash can. Home she came. And when I got married she moved from my parents house to my own. And when I moved to Utah, Ms. Piggy moved to Utah. I'm not about to get rid of her now. She's practically family. She might always have to stare at the wall but at least she gets to be on the tree. For the last four years, since Troy and I were married, she has been the first ornament hung. Shoved in the corner, about eye level, she smiles, with a bit of her tongue showing under her over sized snout.

Here is my Christmas tree. (It has lights, they just aren't on). No, we do not always have a gate around our slaughtered pine, but this year we have an extremely destructive toddler. Thanks, Aunt Vicki, for letting us move with your fence! I assure you that if I were to increase the size, you would not be able to see Ms. Piggy from this angle.

In order to actually witness the atrocity of Kermit's girlfriend, you would have to press your body up against the wall and peer into the back of the tree. You might even have to move some branches. If you did that, if you wanted, in the worst way, to see what she looked like, this just might be what you would uncover...

Now, I ask you, is she not the most hideous Christmas ornament you have ever, ever, ever seen? But I can't get rid of her. Like I said before, she's practically family. She's like my weird, bodiless, paper winged, huge nosed sister. And you just don't throw away your sister.