I know it’s coming because the leaves are beginning to fall from the trees and television commercials have stopped calling political candidates names and are now telling us what toys to buy. Sometimes, the voice-over is the same guy. If he got his scripts mixed up Rob Andrews would be available at Toys R Us and they’d throw in a free Lautenberg to the first hundred buyers.
I figure we have one paycheck coming before the big event but a lot of that will be spent on Thanksgiving. Unless I decide that it’s going to be pot luck this year. Not a bad idea but several of our guests will likely bring Jack Daniels. That’s okay, too; a couple good shots and no one will notice that we’re serving tuna noodle casserole.
Back to Christmas. I still don’t know what to buy for my mother, unless it would be a carrying case for all the foil she’s saved over the years. As a child of the Depression she ‘keeps’ everything. The other day when I visited I was knocked unconscious when I opened the wrong door and twenty five year’s worth of T.V. dinner trays fell on my head.
Shopping for just the right gift is not my idea of fun unless the gift is for me. I’m too old to shop on Black Friday because stampedes are beginning to alarm me. It’s like being in a mosh pit. Without the music.
I know for sure my daughter is all grown up; I asked her what she wanted for the holiday and she said, “New kitchen counters.” Hard to wrap.
My husband wants socks. No, really. I get him a dozen pairs every year and by August they’ve disappeared. Sounds like a failure to negotiate. Let’s blame the firemen.
So, anyway, my husband decided on a real tree. It better be a cheap one because we’ll have to budget the money to have someone take it down in January and clean up the pine needles. It’s a lonely job and I’m not doing it this year.
I crochet so I could easily make scarves for the family but you can get them at Family Dollar for, well, a dollar.
I guess I’ll just give everyone in the family money. They won’t have to return it because it’s the wrong size or color. It’ll be light weight enough that it won’t knock me unconscious, and the old man can buy (and hide) his own socks. And I can window shop to my heart’s content without being burdened by boxes and bags that weigh me down and wear me out.
Before anyone has the chance to spout off on the true meaning of this season let me say this: I’m thankful for my family and the friends that put up with me, all year long. I try to be nice to folks, give to local charities, and to keep my curbs free of grass and litter. But it sure will be nice to sleep in on Black Friday and to not worry about saving receipts for gifts gone awry.
And personally, I love tuna noodle casserole any time of year.