Hmm Ho Hmm Ho

I don't mean to diss Christmas.  I really don't.  I have the largest christmas tree the living room can take; there are decorations all over, lights and a wreath on the front door.  I get into the holiday, I really do.  And I also get excited at trying to get the perfect gift for everyone.  But I am seriously running out of ideas, and my mother made a comment recently that made me think.  She said, I think you've done it all.

I've spray painted a box to look like the Tower of London when Hallie was going to London and our big gift to her that year was money.  I hung it, chandelier-like from the inside of the tower, and wrapped it, a big gift.  A very big gift.  I've created treasure hunts for big ticket items like the Gator; I've filled an enormous box with rocks and then taped the small gift (an iPod) to the top of the box -- so the receiver would understand that it was a BIG gift!  (And of course, half of it for my kids has always been about the wrapped boxes the weeks before Christmas.  The "I have better presents and MORE presents than you."  I have come up with little devious plans like a number system (instead of names on the packages.)  Though last year I forgot which was which!  Ooops!  I would listen to them talk.  Maddie would say if Hallie is one, then I must be two, and Charlie would be three.  But if I was trying to be tricky, then Charlie would be one and Hallie would be three, but Maddie would always be two.  (She was right!)  This year I put their names on their packages, but once the grumbling started, the pointing out of inequities in number of boxes and sizes, I told them that I switched names this year.  So Maddie could be Charlie, or Hallie could be Maddie or ... well, you get the gist.

This is a total lie.  Their actual names are on the boxes, but the doubt has already been formed.  Maddie told me this morning, while perusing the rather small array of packages, that I am just cruel. 

I seem to be a little behind this year (though the house is clean, decorated and my food shopping is all done.)  But I have very little for stockings, and that is usually the one thing I enjoy shopping for.  The stumbling across perfect little items to tuck into the stocking, something small, not always cheap, to go along with the filler of candy.  I usually stock up on the candy end of things at Target, so I hit that yesterday.  The place was wiped out.  There were so many shelves that were empty, and the Christmas candy aisles were threadbare.  I was a little taken aback, and so I stood there for a moment, observing.  There were people pushing carts aimlessly, in search of something to put into them.  There was very little joy to behold.  For this Christmas shopping to fill stockings and provide presents is NOT a joyful event.  It just isn't.

I was in the mens section, looking, looking, looking for SOMEthing.  Anything.  There was this display of Christmas boxer shorts, so I went to look.  There were about 11 boxes of Small, triple packed underwear sets.  They had lights, or reindeer.  They were cute.  Overpriced.  And Small.  Oh, wait, I found a XXL box.  Oh well.

I then wandered across the aisle and looked at tights.  All of the Mediums were gone.  There were lots and lots and lots of Smalls.  Oh, and a few XL's.  I hope the retailers are taking stock of this.  There aren't that many small people out there anymore!  Then I glanced over and saw people looking at the men's Christmas underwear.  Like me, they examined each box, only to discover they were all Small.  And I saw them get excited when they spotted the XXL, then took it out of the box (like I had done with both the small and those) only to discover that XXL is like ridiculously large.  And ditto on the smalls.  I almost told the next person.  But isn't that what we were all there for?  The hunt?  For one small moment there was hope that you could fill a stocking with some overpriced kitschy underwear for your loved one.  Then it was over, and you moved on.  Ho ho ho.

Peter likes smarties in his stocking.  There was only ONE package of smarties.  One.  I didn't even realize that smarties were traditional holiday fare!  My biggest thing this year is not to buy something for the sake of buying something.  And for the most part, I have done this.  I looked at some small flashlight for a few minutes, before putting it back with the knowledge that I have purchased Peter countless flashlights over the years to fill his stocking.  We like never lose power.  We don't go camping that often.  Our current cache of flashlight greatly exceeds our needs!  He doesn't need a flashlight.  He doesn't really NEED anything.  What a lovely problem to have.  Right?

Sigh.  I always go through the same thing, this time of year, every year.  There is not enough.   Not enough.  But not enough what?  Enough stuff that no one really needs?  How did we get caught up in this?  I don't remember, as a kid, that the quantity meant as much as the quality -- or what you wanted.  The hardest thing for my kids is coming up with wants.  Bravo to us, as parents, for providing them with their every want and need.  But it leaves a bit of a void for Christmas shopping!

One other thing I did not do this year is shop very much.  I usually go out with friends a couple of times, with my sister.  But this year I have hardly done that at all.  Maybe it is a good thing that I am finally accepting what I keep saying:  they don't NEED anything, and there is no point in buying to provide things under the tree.  In my mind I am always saying that.  I am always saying that to them too.  But I still have that need to try to outdo myself.  I think that is too hard, at this point!

The bottom line is, it will be all over soon, regardless of what is purchased.  It is one day, a blip on the calendar, and yet we give it so much importance.  To what end, I ask?  To what end?

I just don't know.  I am still working it out!

Trader Joes

 

One thing I have enjoyed about Maddie being so close (and yet so far!) at college, is the opportunity to go to Trader Joe's.  Because she comes home frequently enough for me to hit the store several times a month, it has opened up new doors for me, in terms of how I food shop.

Living in such isolation (well it sounds good!) I am stuck with very limited choices in where to obtain food.  While summers provide ample opportunity between my own garden, my CSA and other local farm options, once the gardens have closed up shop, I am pretty much left with sub-par food choices at the local supermarket.  I have had to drive for food for years, and I am okay with that, because I have never really known nothing else.  But this Trader Joe's accessibility has been lovely.

Except for a few things.

For one, you can't go there on Fridays.  There is no place to park and the place is mobbed.  I mean, half the time Fridays is the day I go, but you have to get there early and the whole experience downgrades exponentially with every passing hour.  I will say this, and I will mean it: People in that part of the world are mean and sucky.  (I also want to say that the people who work at Trader Joe's are wonderful, down to earth and friendly, and are even starting to recognize me.  The customers, however, are an entirely different story.)

After I dropped Maddie off at school on Monday morning, I proceeded south-bound on 128 to the Trader Joe's.  It was traffic mayhem, and as I sat at a light and watched a sea of humanity pass me by, I thought, I don't care how wonderful the shopping is, I could NOT live here.  Not even for a little while.  I found a parking spot easily and grabbed a cart and began my shopping.  I try to park my cart in obscure little spots and then run around and get what I need, because traffic jams with carts is fairly common.  (Like the woman in front of the cheese who kept her cart in front of her and then looked at everything to her left, therefore basically taking up the entire cheese display.  Rude.

As I stood before the cereals in search of a certain one, this gray-haired lady was near the flowers having a bit of a melt down and screaming loudly IS THERE ANYONE TO HELP ME?  She "looked" ahem "normal," but her actions indicated otherwise.  It was very distracting and I finally found what I was looking for and whizzed off to another section.  But it's not a very big store, and it seemed she was stalking me.  Or stalking my space.  I kept wondering why I was letting it all get to me -- I should be delighted to be there, period.  There was a woman with two children who was letting them run around and she thought they were amusing.

Let's just say, I did not.

I am leap years away from shopping with small children, but I have been there.  And I would not have let my children do that shit, because it is annoying, unnecessary and just plain RUDE!  Oops, the moronic mom smiled at me as her toddler rammed her cart into me.  So sorry.   As my thoughts ran along the lines of FUCK YOU LADY AND THE CART YOU RODE IN ON, I tried to get a grip.  What was this energy here?  Why was I allowing myself to get caught up in it?

I had to go to the bathroom, so I parked my cart and did my business, and when I returned, I left my cart where it was, off the beaten path and in no one's way, and continued my shopping.  There was an employee near my cart as I approached with an armful of goods, and she said, Oh, is this your cart?  I thought it was abandoned.

Really?  Do people abandon carts?  What the hell is that?  So I rescued my cart and went off to the dairy section, where I was clearly in the way of this woman who only wanted to look at the section of dairy that I was standing in.  I kept moving my cart, and moving myself to accomodate her, but that didn't seem to make her happy.

I just don't fit in.  I don't know how to be ruthless and bitchy (well of course I do, I am a woman) but that isn't my natural way.  I want to smile and be accomodating and friendly and share the space with one and all, and just buy my food and be on my way.    But there is a territorial bent to the whole experience -- almost as though they recognize me as a stranger.  Not from these here parts. 

Then as I was getting back onto 128 to head home, there was only one car coming towards me, in the right hand lane.  And they refused to move over to the wide open left hand lane.  Why?  Why do people just ignore common courtesies?  So once again, I punched my accelerator with the intent to jam my large vehicle right into their Mercede ass.  NEGATIVE ENERGY city!  Geesh.  The place is toxic!

Clearly I had a chip on my shoulder that day -- because you attract what you put out there.  I can't blame it on Massachusetts I suppose.  The state can't really affect my state, can it?

Not so sure!