Hey, life? Are you kidding me?

Christmas, OhChristmas, come back!!

Prompt: YOUR CHOICE ---

1. MTR or MOUNTAINTOP REMOVAL

2. GAS FRACTURING or Fracking

3. A tale of taking down the Christmas Tree in July ..

Okay, I'm being honest here . . . Ignorance show thyself. . . I'm writing about #3, because I don't know what one or two mean and I've had a hell of a long day, so normally where I would relish research, my brain is screaming "NOOOOOOOOOO". (Does it not know it still has to work? Silly brain.)

Once upon a time, a tired queen of Oklahoma wrote a fascinating tale of taking down a Christmas Tree in July. Then, she slept; hopefully, living happily ever after.

lol - Just kidding. . . . Let me go try my borracho beans; that will either give me brain function or make me puke, depending on if I made them right.

HOLY HAT TRICK ELVIS! That was SPICCCCCCEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYY. Good, but disco inferno burning. . . So now, I'm awake AND probably going to puke from heartburn.

"The Story"

"Mom! What are you doin?!" Pigtails bounced as little Gabriella raced to get in between her mother and a much-loved Christmas tree.

Pushing her glasses up her nose, her mother prepared for World War III. It was 105 degrees outside, Gabriella couldn't even remember what she got for Christmas, and not even Old Man Wilson still had his Christmas lights up. And yet . . . the Baker's Christmas tree still adorned the living room, along with discarded pool towels and a picnic basket.

"Gabby, Grammie and Papa are coming to visit. It's time to put the tree up until December. We've talked about this. I'm sorry, honey; I know you love it, but it's coming down."

"NO!" Stamping a six-year-old foot with arms crossed in deviance, Gabriella fought the tears welling up in her eyes. "Mama, please! The tree loves us. It's part of the family. You wouldn't get rid of Jimmy!"

"Jimmy is a person, not a tree. Jimmy's alive. This tree isn't. Gabby, I'm trying to be patient, but Mommy is really tired tonight. Just think how exciting it will be to put it back up in December. You and the tree will be so happy to see each other again."

"What?! You lied! You just said it wasn't alive. How can it be happy and see if it isn't 'live?" Eyes as big as silver dollars, Gabriella looked as if the shock of her mother fibbing was almost as detrimental as putting up a Christmas tree six months after Christmas.

"Oh, Gabby, please."

Silence as the two strong-willed females faced off, one a miniature version of the other in looks and personality. Each contemplating their next move, planning strategy in the Christmas Tree War.

Finally . . . "I'll be a good girl, Mommy." Yes, she pulled out the puppy dog look with the sugary sweet voice of promises.

"Gabby Ann, you are a good girl." Her mother released her grip on the tree to kneel eye to eye with a daughter who she had indulgently let sleep in front of the Christmas tree for far too long. At first, it had been cute, even sweet. Footed pajamas and a Santa quilt had slowly changed to a thin cotton nightie and a light summer sheet.

"Mama, the tree watches over us. Why don't you feel it?" A sincerity in her voice melted her mother's heart.

"Jesus watches over us, honey."

Nodding her head, Gabriella responded, "Yes, and the angels."

"Yes, honey."

"So you won't take it down?" The excitement of possibly keeping the tree up was suppressed by a fear of hoping.

"Gabby, a tree's isn't an angel. You know this, honey."

"But angel lives in the tree."

"No, Gabby. We took all the decorations off on Valentine's Day, remember? We "loved" them so much, we let them rest for awhile."

"Not Katherine Angel."

Her mother looked at the top of the tree to verify they hadn't forgotten the angel, though she had no idea when it had been named Katherine.

Gabriella got on her hands and knees, crawling under the tree. She reached under the tree skirt, producing a silver and light pink angel figurine.

"Where did you get that, Gabby?" Her mother's curiosity was peaked. She had no recollection of the angel as a gift. It looked Victorian almost.

"Jesus gave it to me for Christmas. I found it Christmas morning under the tree. The tree watches over the angel, and the angel watches over us. Mommy, please don't tell Jesus we don't need her by taking her house away."

"Her house is the tree?"

"Yes, Mommy. Please."

How could her mother argue with this? In fact, why would she? Was a tree in the living room that big of deal? Apparently, it was to a special girl.

"Why is her name Katherine, Gabby?"

Gabriella's eyebrows knitted together. "Why not, Mommy?"



Sleep well, my WDC friends - may the angels watch over you with or without your Christmas trees.