Whilst reading one of my favorite web sites, Pound, I came across an entry from Wendy talking about some of her Christmas Rules. One of hers reminded me of something I sort of stick by, too:
This got me pondering about my own guidelines for the holiday season. Turns out, I actually have some; imagine my surprise.
1.) I agree with Wendy about The Array - for me, personally, using only one kind of wrapping paper is not acceptable. Several different colors must be involved, all of which match or complement each other well. Dark blue and silver are perennial favorites, as well as maroons, and deep greens. Packages should be laid out so that boxen of the same color do not touch. Gold is to be avoided at all costs in wrapping paper, as are obnoxious patterns.
2.) Any paper involving images of Santa Claus in the pattern must, must be the "old-fashioned" kind of Santa Claus, and not an overly-cute, fluffy Santa.
3.) Bows must go on every package, and each bow must complement the paper in an aesthetically pleasing way. Gold may be used, if it does a superkeen job complementing the color of the paper. The nicer packages will receive the nicer bows, and bows must not all go in the center of the boxen; an off-center theme is definitely called for.
4.) When opening packages, paper is to be gleefully ripped off and torn apart as desired. There is no joy in "saving" wrapping paper; it gets recycled with the junk mail. Bows, however, should be preserved if they are large, shiny, or otherwise special.
5.) It is completely acceptable to do stockings on Christmas Eve. Dispensing one or two presents before Christmas morning is also perfectly ok, especially if a situation arises in which a particular present might come in handy.
That's really about it - the rest of the stuff can unfold as it will. But here's the thing; even though I have these guidelines, every single present I wrap looks like ass. Seriously. I cannot wrap a present to save my own life, even if I had A Gift Wrapping Room, complete with a Wrapping Table, paper on spools, and a yardstick - I've never had the knack. There are those people, and you know who you are, who can wrap a package the size and shape of a Volkswagon and have it look flawless, and it is held together with two pieces of completely invisible tape that measure one square centimeter total. Then you take ribbons, make them do something magical, and it all holds together and looks fantastic. I hate you. People like you make people like me look like grammar schoolers. You can even make really willful, evil mylar wrapping foil do your bidding, and I think you must be in cahoots with Satan to attain this kind of wrapping perfection. I don't get it, and I freely admit that I'm totally bitter about it.
We had a holiday party/gift exchange for the volunteers and staff at Wolf Haven earlier this month, and we were each to bring two gifts of less than five dollars apiece. In keeping with my holiday party tradition, I waited until a few hours before the party to actually purchase the gifts and wrapping paper. Since I was in Olympia, I also had to purchase tape and scissors, and then wrap everything in my truck. On my lap. You remember just above where I said I can't wrap even under the best conditions? Well, this was just about the worst possible set of circumstances; on my lap, in the dark, with lumpy gifts. If you give me a plain old rectangular box to wrap, chances are good that it will look only marginally awful, but throw in a curve, an uneven surface, or (God forbid) something round, I'm floundering in a sea of panic. So I had this large travel coffee mug with a large handle to grapple with, and a Dr. Grip pen (still in package.) So, to recap: In the truck, on my lap, dark outside, lumpy packages, wrangling 3-foot tubes of wrapping paper in the driver's seat, trying to hurry to get things done on time.
When the time came to do the gifts, we went like this: One person selects a gift, and then the person who wrapped that gift goes, and the person who wrapped the second person's gift goes, et cetera. Needless to say, 20 minutes went by, and I was still sitting in my chair, giftless. There were a few of us, and the call went up "has anyone not received at least one gift yet?" I raised my hand, and felt I had to explain: "My gifts look like ass," I said to the entire Board of Directors, the Executive Director, and pretty much every single bigwig in the organization by way of suave explanation; "I can't wrap gifts to save my life." Fortunately, these are good people, and someone called out "your gifts look like what?!" amidst chuckles and laughter. "Ass," I stated simply, as I walked to the tree in the candlelit room.
I am nothing if not a complete charmer in the face of people who can radically influence the course of my life.
I mention the room was candlelit because this conveniently hid my furiously blushing cheeks as I selected my first gift. There were other ass-wrappers, but mine were, I personally believe, the worst of the bunch.
Anyhow, Lance and I do not get hugely into the Christmas Spirit; we're more annoyed by the entire season than inspired or excited about it. I personally really enjoy shopping for and giving presents, so that part's fun, but that's about it. The continuous onslaught of Christmas Carols in every single fucking niche in the known universe makes me just a little bit homicidal, the crowds packing into the last square inch of the mall, push it a little bit further, and it all kind of turns into a slowly-spinning-yet-gaining-momentum Vortex of Hostility. Each instance of forced Christmas cheer from salespeople, Post Office counter workers, and other people who must bear the brunt of the holiday season makes me want to scream. Instead, I ask how they're holding up, tell them they're doing a great job in the face of huge crowds and overwhelming pressure, and generally try not to make their lives worse.
I did have two Emotional Santa Moments this season, though, much to my own astonishment. I don't know why they happened, except perhaps because I'm verging into a little PMS-induced emotional seesaw. But at any rate, there's this site that "tracks" santa on his journey - it's called Norad Tracks Santa, and it's a fairly elaborate site that updates where Santa is on his magical journey. For some reason, when I started looking through the site, my throat closed up, and tears welled in my eyes. I sat here, awash in utter bewilderment, trying not to burst into tears at the computer-generated movie of Santa's sleigh flying over St. Louis. I don't know if I was touched that someone would put so much effort into this website, or if I missed the little girl I used to be who believed in Santa so much that in the second grade, I got into a huge argument fervently stating "He does too exist! He does too!!" That night, my parents broke the news to me, and I remember how forlorn and betrayed I felt. Thing is, since that time, I've never really had that strong of a reaction to Santa, or to that particular memory before. I've got no idea why it hit me.
Then, later that night, I was watching "The Hughleys," because nothing else was on, and I wanted a little background noise. I was surprised by how clever the show was; the writing for their Christmas episode was really good. That particular show was about believing in Santa Claus, and Issac Hayes played Santa, turning up and making small Christmas miracles throughout the show. Each time, I got a little misty, and for The Grande Finale, I just gave up and burst into tears. Heck if I know why. I'm not much into Christmas, I haven't ever missed Santa per se...I guess I do miss blindly believing in something, though; I haven't ever believed in God as he was taught to me, and I've never had strong, unquestioning faith in anything except Santa Claus, the Easter Bunner, and the Tooth Fairy, and I haven't believed in them since I was seven years old. That's pretty sad in itself, I suppose. I do remember what it was like, though, to believe in something impossible and magic. It was a warm, comforting feeling, being full of wonder. I don't have the security and knowledge in a spiritual faith that buoys me and gives me something bigger and mystical to absolutely believe in. I don't have a solid believe in a higher being that loves me and is with me always. I go on my various spiritual searches and miniature moments of belief or revelation, but I haven't found anything that I absolutely believe in 100%. Maybe I miss the naivete of childhood, maybe I'm longing more than usual for spiritual fulfillment. Maybe I'm tired of confronting the depressing issues in front of me every day in the "real world," like deforestation and pollution, and need something mystical to wonder at.
Maybe I'm just susceptible to being emotional right now.
This year, at any rate, we made a nice Christmas dinner (and realize that when I said "we," I actually mean "Lance.") We had a nice herb-crusted ham, some very traditional candied yams, and snap peas (I made the snap peas my very own self, thank you very much; I boiled the water, put them into the steamer and everything.) For dessert, we nibbled on the approximately seventeen pounds of chocolate we've received over the last couple of weeks from my sadistic mother, who is intensely fond of sending us gifts from Harry & David (bless her little heart,) and that Lance (who also got us H & D stuff,) plus the sweets we each bought for the other. I stopped doing the eliptical trainer just before Thanksgiving - not the best of possible times to fall off the wagon. However, I'll get back on that horse. Soon. Really.
Lance got me some really snazzy gifts - he's better than I deserve, honestly. He has a tradition (of which I'm mighty fond!) of getting me warm, fuzzy, fleecey things (and we've got the thermostat turned way down this winter to save money and to cut down on pollution; and because I have the blood pressure of a snail, warm clothes are hugely good) some very pretty amber jewelry, and a lot of great other stuff, including some Canon Image Stabilized binoculars. These things are amazing! Canon signed a pact with the devil and have created camera lenses and binoculars that actually cancel out a lot of handheld shaking. They claim it occurs through gyroscopes, but I sincerely believe that evil is afoot here. My editor, Christopher, agrees; he's used their 600mm/f4 IS lense without a tripod, and has produced rock-solid images. For those of you unfamiliar with photography, a 600mm/f4 lens is a pretty big, honking, heavy lens. Without IS technology, using it without a tripod would result in a lovely array of very blurry colors, with perhaps a vaguely moose- or person-shaped object in the center.
Lance also got the cats Christmas gifts! Is he a beautiful man, or what? He always picks out awesome cat presents; me, I can spend fifty bucks on toys and they'll bat them once or twice and then go play with a chair or a hairball (you think I'm kidding, don't you.) Lance manages to get stuff they really like, though, and it just warms my heart half to death that he thinks to do it. Couldn't love this man any more than I do!
Anyhow, it was a good Christmas, and now (even better!) it's over. The insane holiday season will fade into memory, the decorations will come down, television schedules will go back to normal, and, best of all, (I can't say this enough) NO MORE FUCKING CHRISTMAS CAROLS!!! No more carols in the bank, in the post office, in the restuarants, in bathrooms, in any public area. We now return you to your regularly-scheduled lives, thank you very much. Aaaaaaaaaaaah.
Alright, then - I should think about bed. Hope everyone had a nice holiday season, whatever holidays you all celebrate; I think just about everyone has a special day this time of year.