If you lean far to the right and squint it looks perfect...

My Christmas Tree is as crooked as a shihtzu's underbite. I don't know how my husband and I do this, but I would be lying if I said this was the first time we have brought home a Christmas Tree that was somewhat defective. It looks great at the lot, we shake it and twirl it around looking for bare spots...we deem it as the perfect tree. "It's THE one! Wrap it up!" my husband bellows to the less than enthusiastic tree lot salesman who probably has to hear this speech a thousand times a day until December 25th. We bring it home and put it in the $50 tree stand that guarantees to straighten any tree with it's spherical rotating magical base. Then we wait to see who will admit first we bought a pretty awful tree. This year in the late afternoon light of my living room it became very evident our perfect Christmas tree had a perfect case of scoliosis. The trunk was completely curved and in typical male fashion my husband got out a power tool to "fix it". So commenced my husband breaking a sweat hauling our "perfect" tree in and out of the front door in multiple attempts to cut the bottom off at different angles to make it stand up straight in the $50 tree stand that has a college degree in physics. This resulted in less than happy holiday cheer as a few expletives were shouted between us and each trip in and out resulting in a growing trail of needles and a shorter tree. When my 8 foot tree hit the 5 and a half foot mark I had to end the amputating. Now in years past we usually take the offending defective tree and set it up on the back deck with some old lights. Neighbors think we are really in the holiday spirit decorating our deck and we let them believe that ruse. So my husband said "I guess it's time to start decorating the deck - get your coat so we can go back to the tree lot." and right then I kind of had an epiphany. Right there in front of the world's most crooked Christmas tree.
"No." I said to my confused husband. "It's perfect, we're not going anywhere."
This past year has been all about imperfection for me. From broad subjects like our imperfect president and the imperfect war our country is in. The economic crisis that has hit us in the first year of me running this business. The fact I went from working a perfectly respectable job managing a medical division to making handmade dog collars as a full time career. The polite smiles of people who think I am nuts devoting my energies to something they perceive as a hobby. It's all just a little too imperfect for some to swallow.
I love the perfection of my imperfect life and home. In a suburb of freshly manicured hands mine are crooked and dry, worn from digging in the garden and playing with dogs all day. My house is not immaculate as I live with 3 dogs and 3 cats that shed, drool, vomit and wear down anything new. My perfect new car has scratches on the sleek paint job from an enthusiastic setter ready to go to the dog park who jumped on the door. My imperfect yard has holes dug in it and the grass is worn in places and we don't have a hired landscaper to make it perfect again. My clothes are comfortable for sewing and walking dogs in, but not perfectly tailored or out of a magazine. My husband wears a uniform and turns a wrench while most men in our community wear suits while trotting to the train to downtown offices and perfect bonuses. My dogs do not come when called and my 14 year old cat sometimes misses the litter box. There is no perfection here and guess what? We are pretty damn happy.
My husband and I sat on the couch tonight facing our tilting tree. Lights dim, candles flickering, cozy on this chilled evening. The dogs were snoozing around us and one cat curled up on the tree skirt like a present waiting to be unwrapped. They were blissfully unaware of how crooked the tree is, just happy to be in our presence. My husband looked at me and said "I think this is the perfect tree for us this year, don't you?" "Yup" I replied. "It's perfectly imperfect."