All kinds of Christmas

"What are you doing over the holidays?" asks my officemate. J & I are beginning to be friends: my guy & I hang out with J & her husband over dinner, occasionally foray into Guitar Hero 3, and last weekend took a coffee tasting class together (!).

"We usually get a tree," I say. I'm half-distracted by my email: the feature I was expecting to launch today will launch... next Monday? Aargh.

"Really?" J sounds...something. Eager? Hopeful? I am never very confident in my ability to interpret other people's emotions.

I say, "Yeah. We usually drive up into the Santa Cruz mountains and cut one down." I look over at J, and the expression on her face is so enthusiastic that I say, "You guys want to come? We were thinking Saturday or Sunday morning." I offer this invitation somewhat dubiously, since J & her husband B are Jewish - did I misread that look on her face?

"Yes!" says J. "Is it cold? What do I wear? Do you just hike around until you find one?"

I grin, and we make a plan.

Three days later, we drive up to the tree farm. I'm worried all the time that the drive will be too long, that J & B won't have a good time, that this won't make sense if it's not your family tradition - but when we get there and see the families and dogs and little kids and people running around with bright red saws, B says, "I get it - this is the best Christmas tree farm." B loves the idea of chopping down a tree in a forest, and makes frequent references to Paul Bunyan. We find a tree; we take turns with the sawing; we load it into my car and head home. On the way we stop at a winery because this is after all California, then for lunch at 4pm because we're hungry. We eventually make it home; J & B help us decorate. The tree looks beautiful.

"You'll probably redo it all after we leave," says J nervously, and I reassure her that no, we won't, it looks great. My guy, child of a tradition that he assures me took six hours to decorate a tree, adds that it's pretty great how fast it goes with four people.

What I don't quite have a way to say that this has been a long-term daydream of mine: holidays spent with friends, celebrated any day that happens to work, focused not on arbitrary religious ideals (come on, it's chopping down a tree for crying out loud! Although please do keep in mind that chopping down a pine tree doesn't kill it; the stump grows into a new tree more quickly than you'd think) but on good company, indoor warmth, & the smell of pine in the cold.

I am awkwardly trying to be balanced & culturally sensitive, so at some point during the day I mentioned that hey, if they had some particularly Jewish event they wanted to invite us to, we'd be happy to show up. After the tree is all decorated, B says, "So - you want to come over for a dry run of our annual Latkes & Vodkas party?"

"Latkes & vodka don't really go, but it rhymes," adds J. And an hour later, my hands are covered in potato dough as J explains that you have to squeeze out all the water before slipping the latkes into hot oil to fry. My guy helps flip the latkes & replaces the paper towel they drain on.

I wouldn't call any of this religious, but it is tradition: I've got my great-grandmother's ornaments, and B called his mom for latke instructions (garlic powder, not chopped garlic!). All together, it's beginning to feel a lot like holidays.