You would not believe the problems I had. Aunt Clara is now out of snuggies (which used to cost $1.98) and into designer tennis dresses (which cost $300), and her thighs looked much better in the snuggies. Uncle Joe has given up handkerchiefs and developed a hankering for Tommy Hilfiger. Uncle Joe likes Tommy's expensive jeans, which he mistakenly believes make him look young and hip.
As for the kids on my list, all the little boys already own everything from motorized mini sports cars to back-yard tree houses with indoor plumbing. And the girls are all flying to Paris with their parents regularly to replenish their Barbie dolls' wardrobes at Christian Dior. Now I ask you, what in the name of Rudolph do you buy these little sophisticates to put the old Christmas sparkle in their eyes?
Selecting gifts for my friends is no easier. It seems we keep playing, "Can you top this?" You know how it is. If you think Richard is going to squander fifty bucks on you, you feel you must spend at least sixty dollars for something he probably will never wear/eat/display or splash on his face or body. The choice of gift isn’t important. The main concern is that it be in the right price range. And it escalates every year.
Where is it going to end? Probably in the poor house. Except, come to think of it, poor houses no longer exist. The people who used to go there are living better than you and I. And they have the added advantage that no one expects any holiday presents from them. And with the price of postage these days, no one even expects them to send Christmas cards.
Which brings me to my third least favorite activity — sending Christmas cards. I hate buying them, I hate paying the postage to mail them, and I really hate addressing them. More than that, I hate trying to decide who to send them to. Every year I go through the same weed-out-the-list exercise. I tell myself it's silly to send cards to people I see regularly since I can wish them a happy holiday in person. So I scratch these friends from the list — until I receive cards from them, at which point they go right back on. Stupid, huh? But what's even dumber is leaving on the list the people I never see and hardly ever hear from. The so-called logic behind this goes something like this: Gee, I haven't seen or spoken to the Smiths for twenty years, and the only time we touch base is at Christmas, so I really should send a card. Why? After two decades of not communicating except for a signature on holiday cards, we no longer have anything in common; but we exchange cards anyway just to 'keep in touch' and we forget each other for another year. Also, since I no longer keep a list of people who send me cards, I have a terrible feeling that, unbeknownst to me, half the people on my list may be dead — and I'm still sending them cards. I hope at least that they're being forwarded.
All of which goes to explain why Christmas makes me nauseous. But from now on, it's going to be different! No more expensive gifts! No more cards to the world at large! Come January 1, I'm making a New Year’s resolution — which reminds me of my fourth least favorite activity…
But that's a whole other story — which I'll tell you next month.
© Rose Madeline Mula for SeniorWomen.com
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