Last year after Christmas I bought my dream Christmas tree on sale. Handsome Hubby still hasn’t gotten over it. He thinks I have lost my mind. He certainly didn’t like going up and down the ladder to help me decorate all 12 feet of this mammoth evergreen (plastic) monster. But Little A states up at it in awe, and I hope that somewhere in her little mind she is locking away a memory that when she was a little girl we had the biggest, most beautiful Christmas tree ever right in our living room. I am no Martha Stewart, and we only use cloth napkins to save money on paper products- but when I look at this tree I feel like I should be the subject of a feature article and centerfold in Southern Living magazine. I love the before picture, how tiny Little A seems next to the behemoth in the corner. She won’t always be so little but this memory will be with me always, twelve feet tall and anchored in my mind by ten tiny painted toes.