JoAnn and I sat on the couch
drinking coffee and savoring
Nola's home made bread with butter.
"Keith! It's too tall!" Nola yelled
from the kitchen doorway at her husband.
The top was mashed along the ceiling and
bent over about three feet.
We just laughed as her parents argued
good-naturedly about how to fix the
Christmas tree.
"I have an idea!" Said Keith.
Ten minutes later we heard a roaring sound
coming from the front yard.
The front door burst open behind us
and Keith came into the living room
with his chainsaw blazing!
"I'll fix that puppy!" He shouted
over the engine.
"Keith! It's too short!" Nola yelled
from the kitchen doorway at her husband.
Now the tree was three feet tall.
JoAnn and I followed Keith to the garage
and we each rolled a tire around the front walk.
We rolled them through the living room
and stacked the three on top of each other.
"Keith! It's just right!" Nola yelled
from the kitchen doorway at her husband.
And it was.
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