We were having trouble getting it to stay straight and eventually we realized it was too heavy for the tree stand.
I proposed piling the heaviest thing I could think of (our cast-iron pans, because Stephen has Matt's weights) on one of the tree-stand legs. It didn't work.
Matt proposed nixing the pans and sticking books under a couple of the legs. That worked a whole lot better. Times like this I know that engineering degree was not for nothing.
Right after the books epiphany, Matt poured us each a glass of wine -- the same amount in each glass and he wasn't even trying. My husband is brilliant.
And right after that, he realized our tree truck had split nearly all the way up. Why? I don't know. Is this condition fatal? I don't know. We might wake up tomorrow and find it dead.
Matt pulled out a heavy-duty flashlight and investigated the situation. "It's like I'm a tree doctor," he noted.
These pictures do not capture the sparkle of our star's elegant puff paint.
Amanda taught me how to use my camera's self-timer. A whole new world!
Merry Christmas in November!