Raise your hand if you've finished your Christmas shopping.
Me, neither.
The problem is that I hate to shop. I think I may have mentioned that in passing once or twice. The only stores I really like to spend time in are bookstores. (Man, am I really that boring??? Don't answer that.)
Anyhoo, I hate shopping, so naturally I did it again. I put my Christmas shopping off until the absolute last possible minute. Which is to say, today. December 23rd.
I know when I venture out into the retail wild tonight--alone, because nobody in my family is stupid enough to do this with me--that I'm going to be irritable, annoyed, and snappish. I'm going to shout ugly things at people who get in my way. I'm going to give death glares to half the population of Kansas City. I'm going to growl and cry and complain and probably bang my head against a door.
Then I'll get to Best Buy, and park, and get out of my car, and try to be my usual charming self. It ain't easy.
What is it that makes me put this off year after year? Why do I do this to myself? I have something like four gifts yet to buy. Gifts I could have taken care of months ago, if only I'd made myself do it. It's not like I haven't run errands all year long, for crying out loud. I've been to the various retail establishments in my area bazillions of times, and yet I find myself once again shopping at the last freakin' minute for Christmas gifts. What is my problem???
The truth is, I'm not very good at paying attention. Every year I resolve to listen closely and make mental notes when His Nibs says, "You know, I could really use a subscription to Couch Potato Digest."
Or when Daredevil explains that the reason his pants are full of holes is that the wheels and bearings on his skateboard need constant replacement, which he can't do because he doesn't get to his favorite skate shop often enough, and since the wheels and bearings go bad so quickly, he gets flung to the ground a lot, which causes him to skid, which explains the holes in his pants.
Or when Drama Princess wails again that she has listened to every song on her iPod hundreds of times and she needs an iTunes card so she can get new songs, oh and also she must have that really rad awesome t-shirt from the Mitchell Davis website, you know, the one that features the Post-It Monster.
I hear this stuff all the time. I just don't listen to it. (Convenient Excuse #2,112: I don't understand a lot of it.) So I'm stuck doing last-minute Christmas shopping two days before Christmas. While His Nibs and the kidlets are getting glassy-eyed staring at the television or computer screen (depends on who we're talking about here), I'll be out there with the rest of the idiots who somehow couldn't be bothered to stick to their New Year's resolution to get one or two gifts every month, stash them away, and have it all done before Halloween. Who am I kidding? I make that resolution every single year.
How about you? Are you any good at paying attention? Because if you are, then you've no doubt figured out by now that I'm so disorganized (distracted?), if I did do my shopping throughout the year, I'd hide my gift stash from myself and then have to do the last-minute frenzy anyway.
I'll bet by now, Santa's elves are on vacation with their families. I'll bet that sleigh is already packed and ready to go. I'll bet the North Pole toy factories are shut down for the holidays.
I'll bet I just re-post this blog same time next year.
Merry Christmas, everybody!
Showing posts with label Holidays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Holidays. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
The Blessings Definitely Outweigh the Curses
Before I begin my count-your-blessings essay, let me just say that I'm now aware that Denny Crane does not have Alzheimer's. He has mad cow disease. Unless I'm missing something. Did anyone actually see the shark as Boston Legal went soaring over it? Yup, I'm definitely going back to books.
Oh, and I got a haircut. A good one that I really like. Yea, me!
Okay, now for the real reason I'm here.
The day after tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. This is a somewhat complicated holiday, contrived to make you eat until you're sick, watch football until your eyeballs fall out of your head, eat some more, make a mental note to add "lose weight" to your upcoming New Year's resolutions, listen to your kids fight until you find yourself wishing you didn't have the day off, snack, and hate your relatives, all of whom have decided that you are hosting the feast this year, when really you and your spouse had secretly planned to foist the kids off onto the grandparents and enjoy a long weekend in Jamaica. Or possibly Springfield. Maybe the Motel 6 on the other side of town. Anywhere but where you are. Where you would still eat obscene quantities of high-fat foods, but at least you could do it in peace.
Yes, Thanksgiving is the day that ushers in the high-paced, high-stress frenzy known as the Holiday Season.
You know what I'm talking about. The stress starts as soon as you're at the dinner table, surrounded by your loving and devoted family, staring at a feast the likes of which you've never seen before thanks to your sister who insists on bringing authentic chestnut dressing, which she made with her own hands, thereby sparing you the expense of a couple of boxes of Stove Top, and also she makes her own cranberry sauce from the berries she probably grows herself or at least harvests from somewhere, to say nothing of the ginormous bird she prepared in your late grandmother's turkey roaster which somehow Sis now possesses and how did that happen anyway, and did I mention she also makes her own gravy? From scratch? Dinner rolls too. If you didn't feel guilty about shopping on holidays, you would totally have the local supermarket cater your entire Thanksgiving meal, but heck, even you can pop a bird or a ham into the oven and make it palatable. But not this time. This time your sister shows you up. Oh, wait, she did that last year too. And now you're asking yourself why you keep inviting her.
But I digress. There you are at the table, eagerly waiting for the gun to go off so you can grab the biggest sweet potato, the white meat off the bird, a great spoonful of Sis's admittedly scrumptious chestnut dressing, when someone--probably Sis's husband--suggests that before you say grace and dig in, you should go around the table and name something you're Thankful For, he'll go first.
You know this is going to take a while. For one thing, there are 47 people at your table. You don't even know if they're all family because you've never met most of them. You assume that they are cousins of in-laws or something, and you don't want to be rude by asking if they actually belong there, so you just hope they don't eat too much or break anything (because naturally Sis has insisted on using Grandma's china instead of the Chinet you bought a hundred dollars' worth of just for this occasion, and isn't it interesting that she has Grandma's china as well as the turkey roaster? Maybe it's time for another look at the will). For another thing, the Things I'm Thankful For lists are long. Also the kids will probably find a way to gum up the works. They usually do.
But finally, the recitation of blessings has been completed, thanks have been returned to God, and it's time to EAT. Which you do in about fifteen minutes, because the ball games start pretty soon and your male kin are most assuredly not going to wash Grandma's china. So the menfolk congregate in the living room where they loudly complain that you don't have a big-screen hi-def TV and you're tempted to yell that the bar down the street has eight of them showing eight different sporting events, and it's open hint hint, and the womenfolk crowd into the kitchen--your kitchen--to put food away (assuming there's anything left) and wash up. Not surprisingly, Sis is in charge of Grandma's china.
Thus begins another Holiday Season. Then we have the fun of Christmas shopping, Christmas dinner (oh boy! another big meal for Sis to prepare!), and selecting just the right cheap champagne for New Year's Eve. Life is just one big party from November to January, ain't it?
Anyhoo, I've decided that today I will actually count my blessings so I'll be ready on Thursday, even though my sister and brother-in-law will not be at my house. The problem is where to begin.
Let's start with my family. I have a fabulous husband, two reasonably well-behaved children, one dear mother, two sisters whom I love, one brother (also loved), one aunt, one uncle, two cousins, and various and sundry nieces and nephews, to say nothing of my in-laws and my hubby's extended family. Wonderful people, my family, and I pray God's blessings on all of them.
I have more friends than I know what to do with. We think of things, of course. I love each and every one of them, more than they could ever possibly know.
I have a good job and I am blessed with employers for whom I actually like to work. This is something of a rarity any more, and I am truly thankful for it.
I have relatively good health. I'm starting to feel the effects of growing older, but so what? I'm embracing getting older. I've never been that concerned about my age. My husband laughs at me for constantly quoting Bette Davis, but she was right when she said old age is no place for sissies. Besides, I get to be Queen of the World just one day a year, and I'm racking up as many of those as I possibly can.
I have a home and a car. Plenty to eat and plenty to wear. I'm not lacking for much.
I have hobbies that I love. I sing with a choir. We just had a concert last night and are now on hiatus until January, which gives me a chance to rest my voice and spend Thursday nights at home with my hubby and kids, rather than being off at rehearsals. And I'm blessed with a family who understands how much I love to sing, and they're all good with practice nights. I'm a word puzzle freak, too. More with the understanding. And my husband and I like to read together. So I'm not often bored. That's a blessing if ever there was one!
And the greatest blessing of all: I have the love of Christ and His salvation, and a mansion waiting for me in Heaven.
How much more blessed can one person be?
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Oh, and I got a haircut. A good one that I really like. Yea, me!
Okay, now for the real reason I'm here.
The day after tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. This is a somewhat complicated holiday, contrived to make you eat until you're sick, watch football until your eyeballs fall out of your head, eat some more, make a mental note to add "lose weight" to your upcoming New Year's resolutions, listen to your kids fight until you find yourself wishing you didn't have the day off, snack, and hate your relatives, all of whom have decided that you are hosting the feast this year, when really you and your spouse had secretly planned to foist the kids off onto the grandparents and enjoy a long weekend in Jamaica. Or possibly Springfield. Maybe the Motel 6 on the other side of town. Anywhere but where you are. Where you would still eat obscene quantities of high-fat foods, but at least you could do it in peace.
Yes, Thanksgiving is the day that ushers in the high-paced, high-stress frenzy known as the Holiday Season.
You know what I'm talking about. The stress starts as soon as you're at the dinner table, surrounded by your loving and devoted family, staring at a feast the likes of which you've never seen before thanks to your sister who insists on bringing authentic chestnut dressing, which she made with her own hands, thereby sparing you the expense of a couple of boxes of Stove Top, and also she makes her own cranberry sauce from the berries she probably grows herself or at least harvests from somewhere, to say nothing of the ginormous bird she prepared in your late grandmother's turkey roaster which somehow Sis now possesses and how did that happen anyway, and did I mention she also makes her own gravy? From scratch? Dinner rolls too. If you didn't feel guilty about shopping on holidays, you would totally have the local supermarket cater your entire Thanksgiving meal, but heck, even you can pop a bird or a ham into the oven and make it palatable. But not this time. This time your sister shows you up. Oh, wait, she did that last year too. And now you're asking yourself why you keep inviting her.
But I digress. There you are at the table, eagerly waiting for the gun to go off so you can grab the biggest sweet potato, the white meat off the bird, a great spoonful of Sis's admittedly scrumptious chestnut dressing, when someone--probably Sis's husband--suggests that before you say grace and dig in, you should go around the table and name something you're Thankful For, he'll go first.
You know this is going to take a while. For one thing, there are 47 people at your table. You don't even know if they're all family because you've never met most of them. You assume that they are cousins of in-laws or something, and you don't want to be rude by asking if they actually belong there, so you just hope they don't eat too much or break anything (because naturally Sis has insisted on using Grandma's china instead of the Chinet you bought a hundred dollars' worth of just for this occasion, and isn't it interesting that she has Grandma's china as well as the turkey roaster? Maybe it's time for another look at the will). For another thing, the Things I'm Thankful For lists are long. Also the kids will probably find a way to gum up the works. They usually do.
But finally, the recitation of blessings has been completed, thanks have been returned to God, and it's time to EAT. Which you do in about fifteen minutes, because the ball games start pretty soon and your male kin are most assuredly not going to wash Grandma's china. So the menfolk congregate in the living room where they loudly complain that you don't have a big-screen hi-def TV and you're tempted to yell that the bar down the street has eight of them showing eight different sporting events, and it's open hint hint, and the womenfolk crowd into the kitchen--your kitchen--to put food away (assuming there's anything left) and wash up. Not surprisingly, Sis is in charge of Grandma's china.
Thus begins another Holiday Season. Then we have the fun of Christmas shopping, Christmas dinner (oh boy! another big meal for Sis to prepare!), and selecting just the right cheap champagne for New Year's Eve. Life is just one big party from November to January, ain't it?
Anyhoo, I've decided that today I will actually count my blessings so I'll be ready on Thursday, even though my sister and brother-in-law will not be at my house. The problem is where to begin.
Let's start with my family. I have a fabulous husband, two reasonably well-behaved children, one dear mother, two sisters whom I love, one brother (also loved), one aunt, one uncle, two cousins, and various and sundry nieces and nephews, to say nothing of my in-laws and my hubby's extended family. Wonderful people, my family, and I pray God's blessings on all of them.
I have more friends than I know what to do with. We think of things, of course. I love each and every one of them, more than they could ever possibly know.
I have a good job and I am blessed with employers for whom I actually like to work. This is something of a rarity any more, and I am truly thankful for it.
I have relatively good health. I'm starting to feel the effects of growing older, but so what? I'm embracing getting older. I've never been that concerned about my age. My husband laughs at me for constantly quoting Bette Davis, but she was right when she said old age is no place for sissies. Besides, I get to be Queen of the World just one day a year, and I'm racking up as many of those as I possibly can.
I have a home and a car. Plenty to eat and plenty to wear. I'm not lacking for much.
I have hobbies that I love. I sing with a choir. We just had a concert last night and are now on hiatus until January, which gives me a chance to rest my voice and spend Thursday nights at home with my hubby and kids, rather than being off at rehearsals. And I'm blessed with a family who understands how much I love to sing, and they're all good with practice nights. I'm a word puzzle freak, too. More with the understanding. And my husband and I like to read together. So I'm not often bored. That's a blessing if ever there was one!
And the greatest blessing of all: I have the love of Christ and His salvation, and a mansion waiting for me in Heaven.
How much more blessed can one person be?
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
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