You can stick a fork in me, I'm done. All the Christmas preparations are finished, as far as I'm concerned, and I have no intention of organizing, planning, arranging or otherwise masterminding anything in the forseeable future. It's not Christmas itself that I dislike, it's all the work leading up to Christmas that I dislike. My mother claims that if the woman of the house doesn't make Christmas happen, it won't happen, and she's dead right. (She is a very, very wise woman. She also says that "nothing good happens after 2:00 in the morning", and let me tell you, that lesson has bonked me hard in the head more than once.)
This Christmas the preparations seemed to be a little easier than other Christmases, probably because I didn't get it into my idiot head to make a whole bunch of stuff this year. For a couple of years, in an effort to make Christmas a bit more meaningful and extra-special (and, who are we kidding here, cheaper.) I decided to make a heap of presents, and each and every year it resulted in me weeping and cursing and heaping abuse on myself, and vowing to never do it again. The worst was when I got it into my fool head that I would make pajamas for all the children on my list. All eleven of them. I don't know what I was smoking when I got that idea, but honestly, it was one of the single worst ones I ever had. (Believe me, that is saying something, because I have had some spectacularly bad ideas. For example, paying good money to see any of the Batman movies and convincing myself that the cheap shoes that were a size too small would be just fine). Now, pajamas aren't terribly difficult to make; it's not like you have to be worried about the fit, for example, and if they are 6 inches too short, well, so be it. But making eleven of anything is not for the faint of heart, and I very nearly burst into flames in the process. The bloom was off the rose by about pair three, and I had seven more to go, and I think I made up a couple of new swear words by the end of it, and Himself was looking through the phone book for divorce lawyers. It was not pretty. But everyone loved the pajamas, and when they asked me to make more of them the next year, I had no problem not even pretending to be polite about saying "no".
I also gave into the dark side this year, and bought gift cards for almost every adult on the list. In fact, I went into some stores and just bought about 10 gift cards and was done. I know loads of people think gift cards are souless and thoughtless, but I LOVE getting them, and figure those same people would rather get a soulless, thoughtless gift than, say, one of the following:
The first is a "Be Nice or Leave" sign for your home, which, frankly, is a little harsh, if you ask me. I assume the people in my house are going to be nice, the family in it notwithstanding. Otherwise, I wouldn't have invited them. The second is an animatronic robot Elvis "in all his heartbreaking glory", whatever that means. It sings and talks and you can even do karoke with it. Just don't mistake it for the real thing. Lastly, we have at Ten Commandments lawn ornament, which has "the scripture is written in English on one side and ancient Hebrew dialect on the other", for all you purist Talmud scholars out there. Now, doesn't soulless seem nice now?
I've got a couple of things to make tomorrow; some butter tarts, some guacamole and a lemon meringue pie. (No, not all for the same meal.) I think I've got everyone covered in terms of gifts, and I have a couple of "emergency" presents I can give away if I'm caught out. (Like my friend Kelly says, you know you're in big trouble when you find yourself buying peanuts at 7-11 after Midnight Mass because you need to bulk up someone's haul. )
I'll be away from the computer for a couple of days, so there won't be any blog entries for the duration. I'll take this opportunity to wish you all the greatest thing I can think of during Christmas or any other time: peace. Peace of mind, peace and quiet, peace of heart, peace and contentment. Merry Christmas.
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