F*** the Tree
Last fall I spent a great weekend reuniting with a fabulous group of southern women that I had not seen in 15 years.
We arrived at a NC Beach House over the course of a day and by evening we were all settled in sharing sharing stories, mostly laughing, a little crying, sharing good food and tasty beverages.
We all met many years ago when our children attended High Park Church Pre School in Fayetteville NC. They were all from the south. I was an Army wife whom they so graciously invited into their group. We kept in touch over the years but children, husbands, careers and life got in the way.
One thing I learned from these Southern women while I lived amongst them was they know how to decorate, entertain and look good - always. Their homes always looked amazing and were decorated to the hilt especially on holidays.
So, flash forward 15 years - we were sitting around talking about what we had given up over the years. As we went around the room sharing each one of these Southern Women shared a story about being too stressed out at the holidays and how they had forgone the Christmas Tree - me included. Thus the phrase F*** the Tree was coined.
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