Ho Ho No!
It's almost November and I have SantaClaustrophobia again. October and December are closing in on me from both sides and it's time to Xmas shop or be damned. And for certain if past years tell the tale, I'll just be damned because -- I don't know about the rest of you guys-- I break out in prickly heat just thinking about wandering around a shopping mall looking for panty hose or potpourri. And I'm not much more at ease with the idea of thumbing through the catalogs from Crap And Barrel, Plow and Horse or Shopper Image. I have this mercifully short Christmas list of names followed by dashes followed by-- empty spaces. I'm not cheap, I'm practical. Frugal Fred. For the life of me I can't force myself to force on any of my would-be giftees a present just for the sake of giving it. And so from now until the week before Giftmas I'll wallow in guilt and dread. At the last possible minute I'll succumb to the Grinchy spirit and become an unhappily Malled American Consumer in the Blessed Season of Spending.
Not to worry. I'll deal with the Extrinsic Gift List closer to the 11th hour. The In-house list is easier to manage. It works like this: Ann makes her own personal list and orders what she wants (to be honest, it's mostly things she absolutely needs.) In September when the UPS man brings her gift, she wraps it up in pretty paper with her name on it (from me or from Santa). On Christmas morning she is "surprised" and exclaims as she upwraps it -- "Look what a thoughtful and perfectly chosen gift you got me this year! I couldn't have gotten anything better if I bought it myself!" and I see my choice for the first time. I am such a wise and caring husband, don't you think? And we never have any returns.
As a gift receiver, I am not much help and cannot tell would-be gifters a single thing I need-- or want, for that matter. Except for this year. There is this one thing I saw just yesterday at a friend's house and I was overtaken by a tsunami of covetousness: Here it is. For those who won't click to see, it's a Wirelss 433MHz In/outdoor Min-max Thermometer with Built-in Atomic Clock Alarm.
No, I'm not kidding.
But then I am a closet meteorologist. "In my next life" as I am fond of saying, "I'm going to be a weatherman." Weather is real, it's relevant and it's darn near everywhere. Given a choice when I'd hold the TV clicker, my kids would groan because I'd go straight to the Weather Channel. It was the only authentic and consequential thing on TV back then, and if this was true ten years ago... A hundred channels and I watch weather. But is it any wonder? Is this so strange? (A rhetorical question so hush.)
Weather is the breath of this remarkable planet, powering and impacting human lives in unfathomable ways. The great mixing machine of weather is part of what makes this Blue Orb livable. That the planet conveniently is also tipped on its axis first pointing one hemisphere toward the sun for six months and then the other means we all take our turn getting a bit too much or a bit too little sun energy to suit our nekkid hides. And the thin skin where weather happens (that we call the atmosphere) cooperates by filtering out the excess of bad rays that would make life unlivable but for the simplest organisms living underground and deep in the lakes and seas. It is a wonder to me how it all works together. The movement and infinite permutations of air masses the size of continents is the best show going. I am suspicious of those who aren't fascinated by weather in the same way that I don't quite trust people who don't like dogs or cats. There's something just a little cockeyed about'em, y'know what I mean?
So. You needn't ask me what I got for Christmas this year because I can already tell you: some nifty new underwear and a ramfrazzle superdooper thermometer that is my desktop connection to the Greatest Show on Earth-- that I wrapped myself.
Comments
Every year I ask for basic things. Wool socks, flannel underwear, and a craftsman table saw but all I seem to receive is calenders, coffee table books, and items bearing james dean's image. I know what you mean Fred Christmas can be just plain silly. Usually, I get one great gift. Two years ago it was a beautiful clock from an uncle. Last Christmas it was a rocking chair from Jessica that she finished herself. My goal now is that everygift I give will be the one great gift the receiver gets. Put's a lot of pressure on me. Luckily, I work in a book/toystore. If anyone needs help with ideas just email me a description of the person and I will window shop for you. I work at Givens Books/Little Dickens Toys in Lynchburg Virgina. Oh and we gift wrap for free!
Posted by: Seth | October 27, 2003 8:12 AM
Fred, do you suppose we're identical twins, separated at birth - those darlings of social science research? You described EXACTLY what I started feeling just this past week, as I do every year, except it starts a little earlier each year. SantaClaustrophobia, yes! Giftmas! You're a word genius.
Seth, you brave soul! Maybe there are two kinds of people: (1) those who dare to think they know what somebody else would like, and (2) the others, like me and Fred, who are certain that nobody would like the thing they pick, so why waste money and cause so much discomfort all round.
Posted by: Lin B | October 27, 2003 9:17 AM
I bought the Mrs. a forecast clock similar to that one last year! It ended up costing me over $500 though because it told me that the humidity in our house in the winter was less than 20%, and some research indicated that humidity that low was bad for our health and bad for the house too. I ended up putting in a whole house humidifier system to keep the humidity a more comfortable 35% in the winter.
I do all my shopping on line now. Stuff shows up via UPS already wrapped for her.
Posted by: Chris | October 27, 2003 9:53 AM
Lin's right, Fred. You are a word genious. (It ain't braggin' when it's true.) I especially like the twists on catalog names.
Oh, how I relate to this post. Every year, I begin my gentle riff on the joy of simple celebrations, and wouldn't the grandchildren like to have at least one of their gifts from their multiple grandparents (there are some benefits to old divorces) be to have their name put on a gift to an angel tree, or to "adopt" a needy family for the holiday, . . . or something besides the latest Harry Potter gewgaw? I've gotten slightly more hard-nosed with them over the last few years, as they've gotten older, and perhaps less popular, at least around Christmas.
Posted by: Beth | October 27, 2003 12:07 PM
Don't fret over buying me any gifts this Xmas, Dad. All I want is a plane-ticket to India. (Ach, I can only imagine the weight that must event this moment be lifting from your overburdned shoulders. No need dodging all those careening elbows from overzealous mall-shoppers... no need spending GOOD MONEY on shrink-wrapped knick-knacks, no need wrapping, labeling, hiding, forraging through the snow. All I want is a plane ticket to india. And yes, sorry, one back home again.
Thanks Santa!
Posted by: your youngin' | October 27, 2003 7:00 PM
Atomic clock indeed....you need time that finely defined do ya?
Buwhahahahah!
Reminds me of a story...The SU was looking at watches in a shop Geneva...he got the Jones for a wonderfully designed, horrendously over-priced, time piece with two faces. It was a work of the watchmaker's art...I'll give ya that. I asked why he needed two faces (down, girls).
"Well, so I'll know what time it is at home, in SF"
"You can't do the math in your head?" I smirked.
"Oh" He actually blushed and gently placed it back on the velvet tray with a little pat that belied his desire for it as an object.
I also had to kill the joy of a pair of snappy Italian two-toned shoes. There are limits...even in Italy. *G*
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