Oh Tannenbaum.

We packed up the kids this weekend and took a trip to the mountains (or a hill in the city) to scan the forest (or the lot) for a perfect Christmas tree. 

We always go to the exact same spot and get the exact same kind of tree.  It's because of what we've heard about variety being the spice of life.  You see - Henry doesn't like no spice, man. 

So we go here.  Where I've gone for trees for 14 years.  And where Dave and I together have gone for 10.

And we look around for 5 minutes or so, like we really might try something new...  Because, you just never know.

And then we decide on the same kind of tree we always get. 

But this year it was a little more scragly than in year's past.  Wouldn't Chuck be proud?

Henry checks Dave's work through the sunroof.  

I marvel that it's finally sunny again in Seattle. 

And we all say hi to our newest noble fir.

Then, as families are apt to do, we bring it home, slap some lights on it and have a pretty merry time decorating (see iron man below) in the glow of some fabulous ambient, holiday light.

Wait.  This looks like I'm stalking my own family.  Hmmmm.

Tradition, you rascal, you.  You get me every time.