The Saga of the Liberace Christmas Tree and My Resulting Blood Loss

Christmas is one of my favorite holidays. Not only do I enjoy celebrating the meaning of the season, spending time with friends and relatives, and giving heartfelt gifts to others, I LOVE to decorate for Christmas.

I remember my excitement after we built our house several years ago. Decorating the outside of the house with lights, hanging up lighted shapes of trees and snowmen in the windows, and wrapping greenery and lights around the doorways. Inside, I wrapped the banister with greenery and lights, hung little decorations in it, hung up pictures and decorations on the walls, and set out candles and snow globes. I made sure that we always went on a family outing to cut down a big tree, which I would then decorate with matching ornaments and white lights and bows I tied myself. During the last couple of years since I've divorced and lived in an apartment, the entire process has not been as fun and I really haven't been able to motivate myself into going all out, or even part way out, like I used to.

This year, I decided things would be different! I got out my ornaments and scoped out the situation. They were pretty pitiful honestly. My ex husband had been the one to split them up and I'm not certain what his decorating ideas were at the time. Several were broken or falling apart, there were various colors from different tree schemes I'd used in the past, etc. After I really looked at my options, I discussed the situation with my friend Leslie.

As I have mentioned in past blogs, Leslie is everything I want to be when I grow up. One of the things I admire about her is her fabulous decorating sense. Throughout the year, Leslie's house always looks very, very nice. Classy but not intimidating. But at Christmas time? Leslie's house is beyond marvelous. For example, this year Leslie went with a tuxedo type theme. She used black and silver and white. Her tree really could have been picked up and dropped into the White House and there would be no problem.

Upon discussing my Christmas decorating issues and ideas with Leslie, she informed me that not only did she have an extra tree she would let me use, she was also going through her Christmas decorations, of which she had many, and getting rid of some. She told me that she thought there was probably some things that I would like and could use. When I arrived at Leslie's house to go through them, in the shadow of her gorgeous tree, there was all kinds of beautiful things. I took as many as I could without seeming greedy (all right, I took all of it) and went home to try to make my tree into everything I knew it could be!

First, I set up the tree. This fake tree was not like the fake tree I had used in the past. It was bigger and the lights came on the tree. However, it had a stand that had to be put together first, with each hole lining up carefully and eye bolts that screwed into the holes, which would not work if everything wasn't exactly in place. I started out sitting on the floor, trying to get everything in line. Pretty soon I was laying on the floor, attempting to eyeball the stand and see if it was sitting flat and even (NOT). When I thought everything looked sufficient, I slid the bottom third of the tree into the stand. It was fairly heavy actually, and would not stand up straight. Evidence that my stand was not put together right. I yanked out the tree part and took the stand apart again. And again. And again. Switching the pieces around to see if one way worked better than another. Upon hearing my grunts and muffled curses, Katelyn came to investigate. She found me laying on my stomach on the floor with a level and a hammer, banging on the tree stand in various places, and calling it names. All of a sudden, I heard her ask, "Um, mom? Why are you bleeding all over the floor?" I jumped up and looked down at myself. Somehow in the process of tree stand building, I had cut my forearm open. Not just a little scratch, but a bright red, 7" cut that was bleeding all over the carpet and my shirt.

After cleaning myself up and scrubbing the stains out of the carpet, I re-evaluated the situation. How important was a completely upright tree anyway? I mean, after I put the wondrous decorations on the tree, who would notice if it was standing perfectly straight? Nobody! They would be much too busy basking in the glory of my fabulous tree! After two and a half hours, I finally finished putting the tree together and making sure that all of the lights worked. Then, I turned to the boxes and the bags that I had gotten from Leslie. I carefully went through each one, in awe at the beautiful decorations. I began slowly putting things onto the tree: small groupings of greenery with gold pine cones and leaves, glittery golden fruit, gold ting ting. Before long, the tree was becoming full. I decided it was time to step back and marvel at my work. Bask in the masterpiece I surely had created. When all of a sudden from behind me I heard the dulcet tones of my daughter ........."What the hell is that?!"

Turning, I scolded my teenager for her language. "But mom, have you looked at it?" I shook my head and turned, prepared to be stunned by the beauty of my tree. It was hideous! The glitter and sparkle resembled a costume Elvis would have worn in his later years. My tree would have looked at home in the front room at Liberace's house. Had a flaming gay man taken over my body and done this in my stead? Perhaps one with severe mental health disorders that desperately needed medication! I backed up further. Maybe in the right light? Or from the correct angle? And further still I stepped. If I added a bow? What if I turned the tree slightly to the left? No. No. And no.

Slowly I began to pull the beautiful gold decorations off the tree one at a time. How could this have happened? These visions of loveliness belonged to Leslie. I did not understand how they could fail! My tree should have been perfection! But instead it was a sparkly ball of frou frou that belonged at Graceland. I packed most of the decorations I had gotten from Leslie away, and got out the silver and white ones I'd used the year before. My excitement over going "all out" in my Christmas decorating swiftly fading.

Eventually, the tree was decorated. My friend Janice came over and artistically threaded white poinsettia blooms throughout the tree and at the top. I shopped for a few more interesting decorations to give it some life. I added some large clear globes to it to fill in a couple of spaces between the branches. I even added some ting ting in silver to give it "added fullness" upon Janice's advice. The finished product was actually very beautiful. While nowhere close to the magnificence of Leslie's tree, I don't look at it and wonder which personality might have risen above the others and commandeered decorating duties.

Late that night, I sat on the couch in the light of my tree. The children were in bed asleep. We'd hung their stockings up, and put some greenery on top of the piano and armoire, threaded with little white lights. I carefully sat washing the crusted blood from my arm, rubbing some neosporin into my decorating battle wounds, my tree no longer resembling one that Siegfried and Roy might have in their home. Was my tree perfection? No. Would my children look back in later years, marveling over the tree that their mother decorated for Christmas 2008? Probably not. However, as I sat watching my cat systematically begin to destroy the bottom 2' of my tree, I realized that while I might have enjoyed having a wondrous tree that would be looked at by others as if it were a piece of art, that wasn't what was truly the most important thing. My tree, though not a masterpiece, was up. It was pointed in a generally upward direction. There were many white lights upon it. It was covered in ornaments and other items that were similar in color and meshed well together from an artistic standpoint. Barring serious infection, I still had my arm, and hopefully the scar will fade at some point. And next year, I will know to plan far enough in advance to invite Leslie over to decorate my tree for me.