Outside, the snow is falling and I just finished calling my folks, "Yoo-hoo." After a hearty Bob Evans breakfast, we'll drive an hour south to chop down our Christmas tree. As my father explained at a party last night, the last pre-cut tree he bought was in 1974, a season spent hearing the dulcet chime of needles falling to the floor by the dozen. The Ubaldis have taken their tree directly from the ground ever since. Dad prefers Douglas Fir; I love the smell and sharpness of Blue Spruce. Either way, our find will be beautiful and uBlog photographs will follow. Enjoy the day!