The tree

Last weekend, we went out and bought ourselves an artificial Christmas tree.

Awkward.

That's right. We caved. Capitulated. Cashed in. A holiday season free of itchy, watery eyes and reactive  airway episodes finally trumped a fresh, beautiful, and unfortunately irritatingly fragrant, Noble or Douglas fir enthroned in our living room for 2 1/2 sneeze-shattering weeks.

A mind-bending decision in this household, but made much easier after two days of allergic reaction after wrangling a very fresh Trader Joe's cedar garland outside on our front porch railing in a stiff south-by-southeast wind.  My eyes still itch at the memory.

It's a good year to make the transition. The Number 1 Son and The Miz are heading to Japan for a wonderful visit with family and friends there. (Hi, Hakamatas!!!) The Number 2 Son is still in his probationary period with What's-in-Your-Wallet and can't make it home. (Don't worry. The Seattle Poopheads have his back.) And, we rationalized, we can always buy a fresh tree if we get the hankering for a couple weeks' acute respiratory distress some future Christmas.

So, this holiday, it's just us. My date, me and John McClane -- JM -- our new little Christmas tree.

Yes, we've already named him.

We like your style, JM!

Assembly was relative simple, and we duly noted the zillion labels in 18 different languages warning us about the dangers of electrical shock, fire and other natural and unnatural disasters related to Christmas trees.

The lights work, and JM now stands straight and proud, though still ornament-less,  in front the living room window. We'll get around to the ornament thing sometime this week. We're kind of sliding slowly into the holidays this year.

Artificial or not, I think John McClane will serve as a cheerful, steadfast holiday companion. He shines bright and true as does any Christmas tree worth its salt, sharing his welcoming warmth with all who live and visit here.

You're A-okay, John McClane.

Welcome to the Nine-One-Four!