Although I am willing to admit that the previous four Christmas trees that Tim and I have purchased together were way too big and ALL MY FAULT, this year I am entirely blameless. This year, my husband- he who lectured me for ten minutes in the car before we pulled into the lot- is 100% responsible. Hurrah! Sure, we have a Paul Bunyan-worthy tree taking up half of our living room, yet again. At least this year I’m not the culprit. Turns out, boys who went to Catholic school are scared to death of short, stout, elderly (apparently nun-like) women with strong Italian accents. Next time, we won’t head to Vito Toscano’s Garden Center to buy a tree, because Tim was so intimidated by Mrs. Toscano that he would have bought any tree of any size or price she pushed in his general direction. Mrs. Toscano offered us the BIG tree, and home the big tree came. Woohoo! Big tree!! Big tree in our house!