Earlier this week the Gambits headed out to the hinterlands of Beaver County for our annual quest to find the perfect Christmas tree. The weather for Mrs. Gambit was perfect...sunny and dry with temperatures in the 40's. I love snowy and cold, but my dear wife is much happier when it's warm and that is good enough for me.
We arrived at our favorite Christmas Tree farm at midday and, as expected, not many cars were in the lot. Most people already have their trees up, or go on weekends. We prefer a quieter quest and so it was.
This year, after years of urging by my wife, I agreed to a smaller tree, 8 foot or less as opposed to our usual 10 or 11. We did a cursory check at the pre-cut trees in the barn and, finding none to our liking, we headed for the hay wagon and a bumpy, fume-filled ride to the fields where we would cut our own.
Because of the sparse crowds we were the only ones on the wagon and, after waiting to see if any other patrons were about, the young driver began to move out. Just then, we heard a steady car honking from the adjacent parking lot. We all looked and saw a dark black Mercedes S-Class, horn blaring, pull in near the wagon. A good looking woman (I will call her "Babs"), 20 years my junior and wearing what appeared to be very tight ski pants, got out and frantically waived at the wagon. The driver stopped and waited. Babs, looking better as she drew closer, ran toward the wagon and began to climb aboard. She seemed a bit winded and was struggling to climb the 4 steps to the top. Ever the gentleman, I got up and extended my hand to help her. Just as she grabbed my hand and took the final step, she caught her foot on the top step and fell forward, knocking us both down. She came to rest on top of me, her face not more than 6 inches from mine. Although it was not my fault, I said "I'm sorry, are you hurt?" and she said, "No, but I enjoyed the trip". We both laughed, but I could sense that my wife, who was behind me, was not amused. Babs "crawled" off of me and, I must admit, I savored the moment. Although the wagon had been empty, save me and my wife, Babs sat next to me. The driver looked back, saw we were all seated, and began the 3-4 minute journey to the field. In those few minutes I found out she was newly divorced, with no kids, and had just retired thanks to a generous divorce settlement. I asked her what type of Christmas Tree she was looking for and she said she was Jewish and was looking for a Hanukkah Bush.
As we arrived at the field, I got down off the wagon to help my wife and Babs down the steps. Babs went left, my wife and I went right, and after a short distance, my wife said "That woman was hitting on you." I said, "ah, no, she was just being friendly." My wife let silence fill the air and I knew she was a bit miffed.
I've mentioned in prior years that my wife has some knee problems, so this year we agreed that I would walk the fields and, if I found a tree I thought she will like, I would send her a Cell Phone Picture. If the photo passed her muster, she would come to the tree and make a final decision. I have always given her the final say (well, most always). As I moved about, I sent her a few photos which she rejected (too fat, to sparse, etc.). Finally, I sent her one that she liked immediately, but when I told her where I was (maybe 100 yards away and uphill), she said she would rely on my judgment and I could cut the tree.
I knew she would love this one. About 8.5 feet tall, well shaped, no holes, beautiful! I made quick work of the cutting and began dragging this gem down the hill. As I did, I heard a voice calling me. It was Babs, about 50 feet away. I set my tree down and went over to her. She had found a tree (Hanukkah Bush) and was struggling to cut it down. I looked at her and she said "Can you help me with my Bush?" I bit my tongue to avoid an immodest response and simply said "Sure". I told her I had to text my wife to let her know the reason for my delay and so I did. "Honey, I am helping Babs with her Bush and will be a bit delayed". Her response...."use protection". The big laughing smiley at the end told me she was OK with this and that she realized Babs was no threat to her. Actually, she knows no woman on earth is a threat to her and so it always will be.
Anyway, I cut the Bush for Babs, dragged it down to where the wagon would pick her up, and headed back to my own tree. I dragged it down to where my wife was waiting and called the wagon driver by Cell (love this technology) to pick us up. As luck would have it, he had just picked up Babs (and her bush) and was headed our way. As he arrived, I saw Babs aboard the wagon, waiving to us (or to me at least). The ride back was short, but Babs raved the whole time about how I had helped her with her Bush. I contained my laughter as I watched the expressions on my wife's face. As the ride ended, Babs said to my wife "Hold on to this one (pointing to me)...he's a keeper." With that we exchanged Holiday Greetings, and parted company.
We paid for our tree and, with the help of the wagon driver, loaded it on our roof for the ride home. As we left, the Mercedes was still in the parking lot and Babs was likely looking for yet another man to help her with her Bush.
We got the tree home, put in some water, and, after a few days of indoor acclimation in our garage, we will begin decorating. That decorating will be difficult because with a smaller tree it will hold less ornaments, and we have so many memories invested in those we have (over 500). Still, the magic is in the effort and in the result, and that will likely be spectacular as it always has been.
Merry Christmas to all, and to you Babs, a Happy Hanukkah! May God Bless us, every one.
We arrived at our favorite Christmas Tree farm at midday and, as expected, not many cars were in the lot. Most people already have their trees up, or go on weekends. We prefer a quieter quest and so it was.
This year, after years of urging by my wife, I agreed to a smaller tree, 8 foot or less as opposed to our usual 10 or 11. We did a cursory check at the pre-cut trees in the barn and, finding none to our liking, we headed for the hay wagon and a bumpy, fume-filled ride to the fields where we would cut our own.
Because of the sparse crowds we were the only ones on the wagon and, after waiting to see if any other patrons were about, the young driver began to move out. Just then, we heard a steady car honking from the adjacent parking lot. We all looked and saw a dark black Mercedes S-Class, horn blaring, pull in near the wagon. A good looking woman (I will call her "Babs"), 20 years my junior and wearing what appeared to be very tight ski pants, got out and frantically waived at the wagon. The driver stopped and waited. Babs, looking better as she drew closer, ran toward the wagon and began to climb aboard. She seemed a bit winded and was struggling to climb the 4 steps to the top. Ever the gentleman, I got up and extended my hand to help her. Just as she grabbed my hand and took the final step, she caught her foot on the top step and fell forward, knocking us both down. She came to rest on top of me, her face not more than 6 inches from mine. Although it was not my fault, I said "I'm sorry, are you hurt?" and she said, "No, but I enjoyed the trip". We both laughed, but I could sense that my wife, who was behind me, was not amused. Babs "crawled" off of me and, I must admit, I savored the moment. Although the wagon had been empty, save me and my wife, Babs sat next to me. The driver looked back, saw we were all seated, and began the 3-4 minute journey to the field. In those few minutes I found out she was newly divorced, with no kids, and had just retired thanks to a generous divorce settlement. I asked her what type of Christmas Tree she was looking for and she said she was Jewish and was looking for a Hanukkah Bush.
As we arrived at the field, I got down off the wagon to help my wife and Babs down the steps. Babs went left, my wife and I went right, and after a short distance, my wife said "That woman was hitting on you." I said, "ah, no, she was just being friendly." My wife let silence fill the air and I knew she was a bit miffed.
I've mentioned in prior years that my wife has some knee problems, so this year we agreed that I would walk the fields and, if I found a tree I thought she will like, I would send her a Cell Phone Picture. If the photo passed her muster, she would come to the tree and make a final decision. I have always given her the final say (well, most always). As I moved about, I sent her a few photos which she rejected (too fat, to sparse, etc.). Finally, I sent her one that she liked immediately, but when I told her where I was (maybe 100 yards away and uphill), she said she would rely on my judgment and I could cut the tree.
I knew she would love this one. About 8.5 feet tall, well shaped, no holes, beautiful! I made quick work of the cutting and began dragging this gem down the hill. As I did, I heard a voice calling me. It was Babs, about 50 feet away. I set my tree down and went over to her. She had found a tree (Hanukkah Bush) and was struggling to cut it down. I looked at her and she said "Can you help me with my Bush?" I bit my tongue to avoid an immodest response and simply said "Sure". I told her I had to text my wife to let her know the reason for my delay and so I did. "Honey, I am helping Babs with her Bush and will be a bit delayed". Her response...."use protection". The big laughing smiley at the end told me she was OK with this and that she realized Babs was no threat to her. Actually, she knows no woman on earth is a threat to her and so it always will be.
Anyway, I cut the Bush for Babs, dragged it down to where the wagon would pick her up, and headed back to my own tree. I dragged it down to where my wife was waiting and called the wagon driver by Cell (love this technology) to pick us up. As luck would have it, he had just picked up Babs (and her bush) and was headed our way. As he arrived, I saw Babs aboard the wagon, waiving to us (or to me at least). The ride back was short, but Babs raved the whole time about how I had helped her with her Bush. I contained my laughter as I watched the expressions on my wife's face. As the ride ended, Babs said to my wife "Hold on to this one (pointing to me)...he's a keeper." With that we exchanged Holiday Greetings, and parted company.
We paid for our tree and, with the help of the wagon driver, loaded it on our roof for the ride home. As we left, the Mercedes was still in the parking lot and Babs was likely looking for yet another man to help her with her Bush.
We got the tree home, put in some water, and, after a few days of indoor acclimation in our garage, we will begin decorating. That decorating will be difficult because with a smaller tree it will hold less ornaments, and we have so many memories invested in those we have (over 500). Still, the magic is in the effort and in the result, and that will likely be spectacular as it always has been.
Merry Christmas to all, and to you Babs, a Happy Hanukkah! May God Bless us, every one.
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