The Great Christmas Elephant is beeping frantically as it backs up, preparing to sit on my face. The Christmas Elephant does not care that I have not finished shopping. It does not know, or understand, that I have not had time to go downtown at all; it is blind to the idea that I've been so dreadfully busy that I haven't even consulted my Rheb's Candy lists to see who has died, or whose taste has changed. It marches on oblivious.
I am trying to throw a monkey wrench into the Christmas Elephant's stride. I have decided that this year, though I actually have enough in the way of liquid assets to really go shopping, I am going to--once again--make all of the Christmas presents.
This, in itself, presents another problem. While I certainly haven't the time to go downtown or--God forbid--the suburban malls, I haven't really the time either to fart around the house in the making of presents. Yes, X is supposed to get a set of pillowcases with her initials embroidered into a spray of roses. Yes, Y is supposed to get a postcard of his hometown framed in dried roses from my garden. Christmas Elephant, you fail to provide the time needed for these things! And, naturally, on top of the "special" things, I've committed myself to giving the gift of comestibles.
I figure that edible presents are among the best. Everyone likes candy, don't they? Cookies are always nice, and a couple of jars of homemade preserves and relishes imply that I took special time to prepare them Just For You. Under normal circumstances, I didn't really--I put up gallons of these things every year--but this year, I'm refusing to pull a jar of pickles out of the basement. No, you little fartlings, you're all getting something that I've especially preserved and packed and baked and cured for you. And you'd better bloody well like it, too, because I've got to do all of it in the next five days and either deliver it or get it to the post office.
Why? Because I like you! And, as one of my long-suffering friends pointed out, I could earn a million a year and I'd still do my own pickling and canning and baking. I'm just that much of a skinflint, and besides, I'd rather burn in hell than let my friends eat questionable pickle relish that didn't involve a good Southern Maryland cucumber.
I am trying to throw a monkey wrench into the Christmas Elephant's stride. I have decided that this year, though I actually have enough in the way of liquid assets to really go shopping, I am going to--once again--make all of the Christmas presents.
This, in itself, presents another problem. While I certainly haven't the time to go downtown or--God forbid--the suburban malls, I haven't really the time either to fart around the house in the making of presents. Yes, X is supposed to get a set of pillowcases with her initials embroidered into a spray of roses. Yes, Y is supposed to get a postcard of his hometown framed in dried roses from my garden. Christmas Elephant, you fail to provide the time needed for these things! And, naturally, on top of the "special" things, I've committed myself to giving the gift of comestibles.
I figure that edible presents are among the best. Everyone likes candy, don't they? Cookies are always nice, and a couple of jars of homemade preserves and relishes imply that I took special time to prepare them Just For You. Under normal circumstances, I didn't really--I put up gallons of these things every year--but this year, I'm refusing to pull a jar of pickles out of the basement. No, you little fartlings, you're all getting something that I've especially preserved and packed and baked and cured for you. And you'd better bloody well like it, too, because I've got to do all of it in the next five days and either deliver it or get it to the post office.
Why? Because I like you! And, as one of my long-suffering friends pointed out, I could earn a million a year and I'd still do my own pickling and canning and baking. I'm just that much of a skinflint, and besides, I'd rather burn in hell than let my friends eat questionable pickle relish that didn't involve a good Southern Maryland cucumber.
posted by Daniel | 2:26 AM
1 Comments:
I had visions of homemade gifts, thanks to a new-to-me sewing machine. It didn't happen. Hope you had better luck.
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