Yonkers, Richard!

My new Christmas tree has a name.

It is 'Yonkers'.

I did not name him. He came in a box with his name on it. A box that he will never fit in again. I do not understand why Christmas trees come in such tiny boxes. And I do not understand why my tree is named 'Yonkers,' when such a pine tree doesn't even exist. Somebody at the Christmas tree factory just made it up! Seriously, I googled it. So, my tree may just as well be named Bob or Richard, or you could even call him Dick, if you wished.

There are so many thing I do not understand. Not just about Christmas trees and names and tiny boxes. Like, why do vegetarians eat meat substitutes?

One of my favorite Thanksgivings ever was in a community which did not eat meat. No, it was not a commune. That year, I met Hub at the hospital, adorable two-year-old Son in tow, for a free meal served to employees and their families who had the misfortune to work that holiday. I was thankful for many things, as we sat there, our little family gathered 'round the cafeteria table. Not the fake turkey, particularly. But lots of other things.

I guess meat isn't a requirement for gratitude. But the gravy was good.

And I am very thankful about decorating Christmas trees with strange names, even if I have to shove him back into his tiny box in a few short weeks.

Yonkers.

I kinda like it.