in which the family Newluks go public with their daginess...

Christmas tree shopping* off Fish Lake Road. Mountain Dad has aspired, for as long as I have known him, to obtain a Sub-Alpine Fur for the festive season. This was the year to hunt one down. Along with maybe 20 others (the tree carnage was a sight to behold on the snow-banks hemming the road), we sought our perfect tree. Here she is about to make the ultimate sacrifice for our Christmas good cheer.** Again, I'm attired in the retro one-piece that brings a smile to all I encounter. Mountain Dad brought it home proudly from the Free Store' (aka 'the dump'). You can reminisce on how we enjoyed it in year's past here. 

This year the hunt allowed the whole family to relish in their inner dag.***

To accompany the one-piece we had funny hats, frozen beards, angry snowballs, bogged chariots and lots of snot.****

* according to the Parents Luks, this entails going somewhere secret in the bush and nicking it for free.
** we planted another, though not in the same spot, to replace this one. 'What a good deed,' I hear you muse. Aye, but is it still a good deed when the one we cut down, due to the extremes of weather we have here, was probably 50 years old?
Dag : a funny person, nerd, goof (
        Dag: a clump of feces stuck to the wool of a sheep, also used in Australia as a term of friendly abuse (WIKIPEDIA)
**** O.K. It's true, I'm really the only daggy one here. I try so hard to paint my Mountain Man and wee babe as kindred-daggy-spirits but I fear I'm alone in that glory.Hope you had a very Merry Christmas all you dag's out there.


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