half (of the) full

When I was young, my mom started a tradition of buying me a Christmas ornament each year.  The idea was to create a collection that would one day adorn my very own tree, but most of them still stay at my mom's house.  They are kept in a box separate from all of the other ornaments, and I am the only person who is allowed to hang them on the tree.  I love to unwrap them from their tissue paper and remember all of the events that led me to such an odd assortment.  One of my favorites is a brittle-winged Tinkerbell that is no stranger to super glue.  I think she's in need of some pixie dust, because she sure has had some trouble flying!  Another ornament seems to defy the laws of gravity and pixie dust.  I begged and pleaded for an ugly flying pig with movable legs until my mom finally gave in.  The little guy likes to hang out on the back of the tree with all of the googly-eyed clothespin reindeer and baked clay wreaths.  But the effort I put into my persuasive pig-buying argument pales in comparison to the work that I put into obtaining this year's ornament.  It may have been free (if you don't count the registration fee), but it cost me more than a handful of Saturday mornings.  13.2 (yes, 2!) miles later, I can say that it was worth it!  My little Charlie Brown Christmas tree has never been so proud!  And neither have I!

Congratulations, Mack Pack!