Smells like pine spirit
Last night, as Jason & I became unwilling contestants in the cats’ ongoing game of “I knocked an ornament off the tree: find the ornament hook so you can put it back up while I sit smugly in the corner and laugh at you,” he leaned into our tree and inhaled deeply.
“What are you doing?” I asked, slightly alarmed that our tree would have a scent, especially since it’s fake:
(Notice someone’s anal-retentive book organizing in the background.)
He continued: “It should smell like pine.”
“Yeah, it should, but it’s fake.”
“No, it SHOULD smell like PINE.”
“But it doesn’t…because it’s FAKE.”
As we stared at each other, trying to mentally convey our passionate belief that the other person was insane, he finally pulled back some tree branches to reveal this, another reason why I love him:
A pine-scented car freshener. Awesome.



That’s awesome! I think I may have to get one for our little fake tree too.
Comment by My Buddy Mimi — December 12, 2007 @ 11:15 am
Ha, I love it!!! Oh my… I should do this to our fake tree to freak my husband out!
Comment by Christina — December 12, 2007 @ 11:29 am
That is awesome!!!!! Too funny. A. has pine scented candles burning all around the house, all the time because he is so sad that we don’t have a real tree.
Also – how pretty and coordinated your tree is! We have random ornaments because A. insists that only ornaments that “have meaning and memories” are allowed on the tree. Sentimental schmuck.
Comment by Artemisia — December 12, 2007 @ 12:35 pm
Torsten and I had a moment of mutually being convinced that the other person was insane on our very first date. We were walking by the river after we had lunch, and I pointed out some ducks. But he couldn’t see them because from his angle they were blocked by a bridge. He kept repeating that there weren’t any ducks and I kept repeating that there were, and then we stared at each other in exactly the moment that you describe having with Jason. We’re lucky there was ever a second date, huh?
Comment by Jess — December 12, 2007 @ 1:11 pm
That’s all well and good, except that it appears to be STILL IN THE WRAPPER. Hmm.
This is awesome.
Comment by Tessie — December 12, 2007 @ 1:26 pm
I’m with Tessie. What’s with the wrapper? Still, I think your husband is just lovely.
Comment by Shelly — December 12, 2007 @ 2:00 pm
He left it in the wrapper and just cut a little slit because he was afraid if he opened it all the way, the smell would be oppressive. Hee!
Comment by Shauna — December 12, 2007 @ 2:16 pm
That’s really sweet! If your tree weren’t so “designer”, I might suggest hanging the air freshener as an ornament. That would totally pass on my tree… not so much yours!
Comment by LoriD — December 12, 2007 @ 2:33 pm
Good thinking, Jason! Much better than the spray pine scent or bathroom deodorizer!
Comment by PixelPi — December 12, 2007 @ 2:56 pm
Since you pointed it out, I just keep looking at the color coded book organization in the background.
Comment by JMC — December 12, 2007 @ 9:09 pm
Your tree is so adult like! And, um, not pink and white! Like mine! Pretty.
Cats worldwide looooove that game.
Comment by blacksheeped — December 13, 2007 @ 8:36 am
The first thing I noticed were the book shelves. Are they color coordinated? I like it, but wow!
I think this is a brilliant idea, the air freshener. I gave my future mother-in-law a pine sented candle last year so that her house could smell like real tree, but then it lit an ornament on fire becuase she put it to close to the tree. Potential disaster indeed.
Comment by Flibberty — December 13, 2007 @ 10:04 am
I adore whacky, original people! Also, they actually have pine-scented spray specifically for trees, you know, if the car freshener doesn’t work out. Is all I’m saying.
And MY cat-disguised-as-the-devil knocked all of the lower ornaments off of my damn tree, and then climbed UP it, bending branches, so many times that I took it all down, swearing and calling her names and blaming her for ruining my Christmas. Good for you, way to persevere.
Comment by Amber — December 13, 2007 @ 8:38 pm