This is What Love Looks Like Today

 See it?  Pure love.  No, not the chocolate, although those of you who know me best could easily assume that.  The wood.  Here's why.
Remember this guy?

 Yeah, him.  Mr. Evergreen. 

 In all his greeny glory.  Remember Sir went to the bank, got Euros, asked friend S to help him, tromped through the pouring rain, wrestled him up two flights of stairs (the tree, not S) and stood him in the living room?  Well, the truth is that Sir would have been perfectly content with a 3-foot artificial tree on a little table somewhere.  He did all this for me, and really, for my Girl, who loves a big fat live tree like nobody's bidness.  But the man who sold Sir the tree didn't put a fresh cut on the trunk, and the tree began to die after less than a day.  Wouldn't drink a drop of the six huge cups of water I put in its stand. I could hear the needles dropping onto the wood floor during the quiet of the day.   I knew the only way to save the tree was to saw off the bottom, but I cringed at the idea of broaching the subject to Sir after all the effort he had put in already.  Finally, after 24 hours, I gave Sir the grim details.  And do you know what that man did?  Surprised me today, and came home on his lunch hour to save the day. 
So after I did a lot of this:

 (Yes, that was the only way to get all that water out of the tree stand,)  we tipped the tree over, removed the stand, and prepared for surgery.

We realized that we had no saw. 

I truly believed I was going to have to sacrifice my brand new, WalMart clearance, carried it over in my suitcase in September, cake spatula.

I was ready to take one for the team.  Then  we remembered that Mike Downstairs (that's what we call him but he really does have a last name) has one of those awesome cordless DeWalt multifunction black and yellow amazing thingies (I'm hopeless) - and it includes a circular saw.  AND he comes home for lunch sometimes.  What a blessing! 

And hunks of sawdust and much heaving and sweating and groaning and twisting and Advil later, the tree is four inches shorter, hopefully much thirstier, and reasonably straight; the floor is swept, the furniture is back in place, and I am a grateful wife.  We had to remove four of the lowest branches, but that will make room for the manger scene and more presents.  :)  Sir  hauled the branches out to the compost area, and he started to take the piece of tree stump, too......but I'm keeping it.  To him it's a hunk of wood - to me, it's kindness and sacrifice and love in action, and that's the best Christmas gift I could dream of.

Dare I push all pun boundaries and ask you to forgive me for being sappy?