On Friday, we summoned our inner lumberjacks to find a Christmas pine that was just right – not too tall, too full, or too crooked. We snaked through the tree-lined trails for a half hour before stumbling across “the one.” The height was right. It had enough volume to support my ornament collection. It looked straight-ish. We strapped the yuletide spruce to trunk of my itty bitty Honda Civic and made the trek home. Once inside, the quirks of our Christmas tree became apparent, but nothing stood out as much as the now-obvious curvature of its trunk. From one direction, it looks like it’s leaning into the wall. From another, it looks passable. But if you squint at it after a glass of spiked egg nog, it looks lovely.