Wednesday, December 3, 2008
A word on mistletoe
I've always thought kissing under the mistletoe was a cute little tradition. When I was a kid, I'd drag my parents under there for a kiss on the cheek. When I was a teenager I'd fantasized about a romantic kiss with the guy I liked. As an adult, I include a bundle of mistletoe in our Christmas decorations every year. But this year, mistletoe has reared her ugly head. A large, formerly beautiful tree in our front yard has completely succomed to mistletoe's deadly force. Yes, it was a gradual process, but unfortunately, when we moved into this house, the parasite had already infested every major branch. This spring, when I didn't see any new leaves, and then when the mistletoe itself turned yellow and died, I knew the tree had given up the ghost. The tree is a sad sight, and is a constant reminder of my newly-developed dislike for mistletoe. Of course, the plastic version hanging on our ceiling never hurt anyone, so I guess I can still endure a kiss or two beneath those green leaves.