Yesterday morning I went Christmas shopping.
The inside of our car was freezing cold at 9:00 a.m., but who cared?
Snow and ice blanketed the roads then, too, and the wind was blowing icy darts, but I didn't even notice. The mall was crowded with people, even so early, but I didn't mind a bit.
For you see, I went Christmas shopping online.
I visited three different stores and didn't use one drop of gas nor did I and I search for, or squeeze into, a single parking space, or get shoved around by that frosty wind while winding through the back 40 of the parking lot.
I was the only person I saw in each store. Blessedly quiet, I didn't hear any screaming children, yelling parents or Christmas Muzak. I even drank coffee while I browsed the shelves.
The stores had exactly what I wanted, everything was in stock.
Always the very first person in line at the check-out, I never waited in long lines resembling a type of purgatory. Nope!
I carried no heavy packages to a freezing cold car in the icy, crowded parking lot. There was no traffic to battle my way through, no gas fumes or stop signs or near misses with other cars.
No, I was home, in my nightgown and robe. Warm and toasty and smiling like a Cheshire cat.
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Kim reminded me that another advantage of shopping online is the avoidance of shopping in the midst of thousands of sickness germs. Gotta love that, also!
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Speaking of knowing what you want (my last post)...
I was watching my new favorite show, Rachael Ray, minutes ago and her guests were a married couple who both agreed that the husband (poor guy) was a horrible gift-giver. When his wife said she'd NEVER received a good gift from her husband and he hung his head and said he was a loser-- I became upset with the wife and ran down here to our basement office in order to re-run a post I ran this time last year.
Here is what I wrote last December about gift-giving where husbands and wives are concerned--
The Christmas Test. I know women who give their husbands The Christmas Test every year and almost never have I heard of a husband actually passing it (the poor guys).
Which Christmas Test? The one which starts with, "If you really love me, you'll figure out--on your own--what I truly want for Christmas."
Oh my goodness.
Why do women torture their husbands that way? And why do women even do that to themselves, disappointing Christmas after disappointing Christmas?
If you are one of those women, I just have to ask, in the words of the O-So-Wise Sage--Dr. Phil, "How's that working for you?"
I guess I have an especially-sensitive compassion for men who must take The Christmas Test because my own brain came without the Good Gift Giver Gene.
Seriously.
There's a blank space inside my brain right where that gene is supposed to be. (Actually, I think there are many blank spaces in my brain, but that's a whole other post.)
The odds of my dreaming up the perfect gift for my husband and my daughter are about 1 in 3,999,999. Finding the perfect gift for themis enough to make my hole-splattered brain hurt,freeze and downright dread Christmas.
So what have Tom, Naomi and I done for years? We give each other nice, long, detailed lists of what we would like. Lists from Amazon. Lists in emails. Lists on little slips of paper. I have even been known to give Tom a coupon and a little map of the aisles of a store leading to just the right shelf where he would find the right diary to match the title I'd written for him.
And hooray! He found the diary, used the coupon for ten dollars off, wrapped it up and put it under the tree. It was my favorite gift that year.
And, yes, there are still surprises this way. I never know for sure which items from my list Tom will choose for me. I do try to list them according to what I want most and then second most, etc., and often he takes that route.
And always, I'm thrilled that I receive just what I wanted! It certainly beats getting, instead, mad, sad or depressed all because my poor husband couldn't read my mind.
And then, too, Tom likes to buy me some little things I did not ask for and that's always a very hit-and-miss kind of activity. But you know? Since he also gets me things from my list, the 'misses' don't even matter. In fact, they are often comic-relief and our whole family. Heh.
Well, I just wanted to share this with you in case it might help. Tom and I haven't been married for 27 mostly-happy years without learning a few nifty, peace-giving tricks along the way.
This is one of the best.
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I'm thinking about things.
Christmas (of course) and how it's not fair that I can't eat junk like I used to and get away with it. And don't tell Tom, but I've also been tearing off chunks of bread for the backyard mice and training them to come when I call. It's like keeping pet mice in the back yard.
Yes, that's bad. シ
I also remembered, as a child, I'd watch tv commercials and find myself craving Jif Peanut Butter, Wonder Bread and Chatty Cathy and being clueless that those commercials were influencing my childish longings.
Now, though, I get these adult longings, but they do not come from tv commercials. Mostly, tv commercials just annoy me.
I am, now, influenced by movies.
Long ago when Home Alone first came out, their house mesmerized me. (If you've seen the movie, you know exactly which house I'm speaking of.) Oh, the pretty colors, the arrangement of the rooms and the lighted windows at night. Never crazy about the kitchen, but I did love that the house had a basement and an attic.
And well, at that time, Tom, Naomi and I lived in a new, double-wide mobile home. I had to stretch my imagination extremely out of shape to believe it was anything like the Home Alone house. But a few years later we moved to our present house and finally! I had my basement and an attic, too.
But because I've evolved, my tastes have changed and when I watch Home Alone now, the house looks, well, a bit too 1980's for me. No, now the house of my dreams is the one from the old 1930's Blondie and Dagwood movies. I watch those movies sometimes for the plot, but mostly, to let my eyes gaze and dream upon Blondie's house and all her classic, cute stuff.
And then there's the black coat which Susan Lucci wore in her movie, Ebbie. Finally, only last year, I found just the right coat at the perfect (Salvation Army) price and because I have such a WILD imagination, I wear it and pretend I look as terrific as Susan. ツ
And then of course there are the three-quarter shelves I put above my kitchen sink because Blondie had some above hers and the dark curtains I bought for our sunroom because I liked the ones in Welcome to Mooseport. There's the record player I put on my Christmas list because Jessica in Prancer had one and the vintage Christmas record I bought because of the vintage songs in The Polar Express.
Oh, and Gary Hobson's Craftsman lamps and yellow pillowcases in Early Edition.
And maybe it sounds silly for me to bring all this up, but actually, I'll make a point. For many years, I was too vague in my thinking, wishing and desiring. Instead of actually knowing who I was, what I wanted, I more often walked around in a fog where I only complained that I never seemed to own things I love. That other people had lovely stuff, but mine never seemed to look quite right or express who I was inside.
The problem? I didn't know what I wanted because I didn't know who I was and I didn't realize that what I liked was ok, even if no one else liked it. I was wishy-washy, indecisive and afraid to dream big.
But when I finally began to listen to the voice inside of me rather than all those swirling around on the outside, I gained clues as to what I loved and desired. It's like I awoke from years of sleeping and now was unafraid to really look, see what's out there--and realized if I liked it, that was important because I mattered.
And now? Everywhere I look, especially on movies and tv, I remember that lesson and enjoy all the wonderful eye candy out there.
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