On Saturday, November 21, 2015 – more than a month before Christmas – Tony and I chopped down our first tree as married Cavaleros. I use the term “we” loosely, as I wore high-heeled over-the-knee boots for this occasion, and Tony sawed it down without any help from me. But we’re a team now, so WE chopped it down. Before you decide we are what’s wrong with America, replacing our Halloween pumpkins with holiday decorations and blasting Mariah Carey’s Christmas album while it’s still 90 degrees outside, just know that we had to get our tree last weekend. Tony heads out to shoot a movie the morning after Thanksgiving and won’t be back until it’s practically Christmas. This was our only chance. (But, to be fair and honest, I did start playing Christmas music on November 1 and drag out our holiday decorations, so you can hate me if you want. #sorrynotsorry)

After some light googling, we discovered most places don’t sell Christmas trees that early because most normal people aren’t Christmas-crazed enough to want to buy them that early. Finally, Tony found Christmas Ranch Tree Farms in Thousand Oaks. They happened to be doing their employee training Saturday morning, and generously offered to let us be their test group. We happily obliged. It was mostly high school kids who looked kind of embarrassed for us (or maybe just for me and my outfit – I was sweating while most everyone else was in shorts and tank tops). I didn’t care, I WAS ON A CHRISTMAS HIGH.

My parents are currently in town for Thanksgiving, so they joined us for our holiday excursion. Tony got up early to get everyone Starbucks “war on Christmas” beverages (I’m addicted to their peppermint lattes), and we all packed in the car and blasted the holiday music station while we drove north to get our tree. Tony wore jeans, sneakers and gloves so he could chop down the tree; I wore the above mentioned heels that Tony refers to as my “hooker boots” (he doesn’t know what’s on-trend), and a faux fur vest despite it feeling like it was still the middle of summer.

We played our favorite game on the drive: The Baby Name Game, in which we throw out names for our future children. My mom asked if I was “trying to tell her something,” and I reminded her I’d polished off a bottle of champagne by myself the night before. My dad didn’t fully understand the game, and made names up, like “Shecky.” I asked him if he’d ever met a Shecky, and he said “Of course not,” like I was the crazy one.

Several homes border the Christmas tree lot, so I photographed most of the dogs we passed while Tony dragged the wheel barrow specifically designed for trees (the guy who patented that must be rolling in dough and Christmas magic).

My mom tried to convince us to buy a tree twice as tall as our ceiling (as well as a tree smaller than her), while my dad wandered off into someone else’s family photo shoot.

{Um, no Mom.}

My mom and I were of the opinion that we should scour the entire lot before making a decision. My dad and Tony were of the opinion that we should chop down the first tree we sniffed and go home and spend the rest of the day watching sports on the sofa. We compromised and, about 15 minutes in, found a gorgeous, full tree that smelled like I imagine Santa’s house would. We posed, and then Tony and my dad went to work sawing it down while my mom and I made kissy faces at the neighborhood dogs.

Tony dragged the tree back to the parking lot, where one of the kids jammed it in “The Shakee,” yet another genius invention which shakes bird nests, mice and snakes out before you take home your prize. Then, the boys loaded it up while my mom and I aired ourselves out in the cool late-November air conditioning in the car. We spent the rest of the day decorating while Dad and Tony got to watch their beloved sports (I paid so little attention I don’t even remember what sport it was).

{The professionals estimated that our tree is 6 years old}

Here’s the thing: Anytime people roll their eyes at my Christmas obsession/openness to rock out to holiday music pre-Thanksgiving (and even pre-Halloween), I always tell them it’s that feeling you get around the holidays that I’m after. People re-prioritize; they spend more time with their families, volunteering, thinking about what they’re grateful for… We focus more on love, and each other. Why not try to bottle that feeling up, drag it out for as long as possible and enjoy it before the hectic side of the holidays sets in?

And with that, I’m going to park myself in front of the Christmas tree with a peppermint latte and crawl down a deep dark hole of internet shopping. HAPPY TUESDAY!