DON'T FORGET TO LAUGH
Whew! I am here to declare I have survived another “Holiday Season.” Yay. Like running an obstacle course covered with holly, I endured the decorating, baking, gift buying, and made it out alive. Oh, isn’t the Christmas spirit grand
I must thank those who helped me along the journey. First, son Chris took it upon himself to do all the shopping and cooking for the Christmas Eve dinner. While I drove a bobcat through the living room, Chris chopped veggies, tested the rum, sautéed chicken, and tested the other rum.
Son Jesse obediently stirred when asked.
I was thrilled to have an actual Christmas tablecloth, along with Christmas dishes and glasses to grace the table. When my sister inquired about Christmas napkins, I went right to the buffet drawer. Of course, there were holiday napkins. They featured Casper, the friendly ghost, in front of a haunted house with a purple background. Whoops. Wrong holiday. But Casper got along just fine with the snowmen and Santas frolicking about on the tablecloth.
I’m proud to say I also found the box containing the Christmas carousel. This spinning nativity scene is a family favorite. I placed it on a table in a central location. It is still sitting there. It was never removed from the box. I presume guests came in, saw the box, and said, “Ooo, a Christmas carousel box. How lovely.”
The lights were strung on the outdoor tree. But we never got around to getting an indoor tree. On Christmas Eve, we threw some shiny blue and purple garland on a Ficus and declared it a Christmas tree. Actually, it looked like a Charlie Brown tree in drag. It may not have been as grand as the neighbors’ trees, but we spent less than two minutes decorating it.
Recently, I heard a survey showed 33 percent of the population is stressed over buying holiday gifts. Are you kidding me? This has got to be wrong. It seems to me it should be 99 percent of the people. Am I the only one who must have each gift be absolutely perfect? I’m not just saying, “Happy Holidays” with a present. The object must convey my appreciation for their friendship. It is the duty of each wrapped goodie to express my fondness and love for the recipient. It must say “I will take a bullet for you, gladly. Really.” Thank goodness, such rare treasures can be found at 30 percent off at Kohl’s the week before Christmas. (And earn Kohl’s bucks.)
My intention was to take my sons on vacation as their Christmas present. But, because of some complications, the trip was dropped. I quickly went on-line to find geek, robotish gifts for them. I didn’t want the kid stuff, so I Googled “Adult toys.” Um, not what I had in mind. So, at the last moment I ran out and bought a few things for them.
Then I immediately lost Jesse’s gift.
He was very gracious Christmas morning as he opened a nicely wrapped present, a fleece…for someone else. I told him his was the exact same thing, just a different size and different color. He was a sweetheart and said he imagined it as a medium in blue. “Thanks, Mom.”
Unfortunately, I did not realize the store (not Kohl’s) had left the clearance stickers on the glass wear I bought for Chris. Didn’t matter. The tumblers with the blue swirls held his rum just fine.
Luckily, Chris was not miffed that I had opened the package from Amazon that arrived before he did for Christmas. I ripped open my own present, a Google stick thingy that allows me to use my iPad on the TV. On Christmas morning, I opened it again with the appropriate oohs and ahhs. (Experienced actress, you know.)
I am happy to report that Jesse’s present was discovered before he had to fly back to school. It was right where I had placed it, in the gift cupboard. I keep kicking myself for putting it in such a ridiculous place.
Now, the tree is undecorated. (Took 7.5 seconds.) The wrapping paper is put away. And those Christmas knick-knacks are being stored for next year. The tablecloth with the snowmen needs to be removed and cleaned. And, of course, that box with the carousel needs to be returned to its shelf. Then again, no need to rush these things. It’s not July yet.
Carol Wilber Bradfield is one of those "Lake People." She snuck into Davidson many years ago when someone left the gate open one night. If seen, please approach carefully and give her a hug... and cash if you have it. Lots of cash. Thank you.