Tis the Season

Ah, another holiday season. As I looked out the window of our office building yesterday it filled my heart with anger to see all those shoppers clogging up my commute home. Must they leave the mall at 5:00 when the rest of us schmucks who have worked all day just want to get home to some Christmas cheer?! Preferably cheer that comes from a bottle with a cork on top.

Speaking of shopping…. who are you people that drag your kids shopping with you? Have you never heard of a babysitter? Great idea bringing them along to clog up the aisles and of course we all love to hear you tell them no less than 1,000,000 times not to touch anything. Lady, if you’re going to bitch at them the entire time why not tie their hands to their thighs with duct tape? It would make the whole experience much more pleasant for the rest of us, not to mention cut down on the copious amount of germs they are undoubtedly spreading from their snot nose friends at school.

When did gift wrapping become advertising? These days stores want to charge you $12.00 to stick paper with their name all over it on your package. Give me the good old days of department store gift wrap departments. You know the ones with their generic boxes wrapped in hideous red and green paper on the wall. “I’d like this wrapped in #14 please” Truthfully, the only stores to get away with this shameless self promotion are Hermes, Tiffany’s and Cartier. Those are classics. Everyone knows the orange, blue or red box but these new guys need to keep their name off my boxes.

Also what is with stores that “run out” of boxes? You knew it was the holiday season. You sell merchandise that needs a box, yet you ordered enough for the first 50 customers? Short people on the giveaways, short them on service (which you do anyway by hiring kids who should have their high school diplomas ripped from their hands), short them on the hottest new toy (what would the season be without a few totally panicky parents) but don’t short them on boxes. Boxes are an essential part of gifts. Without them you have a wrinkly blob under the tree leading everyone to believe you wrap like a one handed chimp.

One way gifts. I am the first to jump at any fun stuff coming my way but I find it incredibly irritating when I get a gift from someone with which I have no relationship. This does not lead to good will. This leads to guilt and embarrassment and I have enough of that in my life. I do however accept these gifts because after all they went to the trouble. I’ll work it out in therapy later. The flip side of the one way gift coin is the “you are new to the family and I haven’t a clue what you like” side. Fun! I have trouble buying for people I know inside and out let alone someone I just met.

If you haven’t picked up on it yet I am gearing myself up to finish our Christmas shopping this afternoon. I thought if I ranted now I wouldn’t have any left when I hit the stores. Time (and the level of champagne left in the bottle in my fridge when I go to bed) will tell.

Another year older, another year closer to middle age.

Today is my birthday. My thirty sixth birthday to be exact. I am officially closer to 40 than 30 and although I sat and cried as 30 approached, I feel oddly at peace today. Carrie let me sleep in this morning and Isaac crawled in next to me to keep me warm until it was time to get up. Every time I stirred, I heard the soft thump thump of his tail on the comforter. Carrie’s dad woke me up to tell me happy birthday then my mother called as I was pouring my first cup of coffee to sing me Happy Birthday. I made the grave mistake of interrupting her midway through, prompting her to start all over again. Not wanting to endure hours of cheerful singing before I finished my first cup of coffee, I let her roll with it the second time. My co-worker brought me white cake with raspberry icing which is the best breakfast I could have hoped for on my birthday. She also brought me egg nog waffle mix and butter maple syrup. Yum! No, you cannot have her.

So far thirty six is proving to be quite nice. Sure I have had moments when inwardly I think, shit, soon I’ll start with hot flashes, night sweats, hormonal hell, ass sagging, wrinkle accumulation and everything else that comes with age but I’m thinking that is a longer ways off than I once believed. How foolish I was to begrudge aging. With age comes the realization that the older you get the more control you have over your life. Ah, the old control issue. But seriously, I can spend all day on a Sunday in my pajamas doing nothing but watching a Real World marathon and no one can tell me to get dressed. I can watch the entire Grammy Awards and count on one hand (maybe even half of that) how many bands I’ve actually heard of let alone name one of their songs. I officially listen to the oldie station now and can sing along to any Rick Astley tune they play. “Never gonna give you up, never gonna make you cry…” Take that Nickelback! Sure, I still look at current fashion trends and think I wish I were young enough to wear that, but I had my time. Remember boxer shorts over leggings and rubber bracelets? Thank you Madonna. Glad to see you grew out of it also.

The best thing I have received this birthday was a card from Carrie. Yes, she gave me a wonderful, beautiful gift also but this card. This card, this card. Every once in awhile someone gives you a card that is worded so perfectly it brings tears to your eyes. The moment I read her card, standing in our kitchen in my nightgown with barely enough caffeine in my system to function, I realized that I have found someone to grow old with. That makes the aging pill a little less difficult to swallow.

It’s Not What You Think Moment

It started out with my co-worker innocently fishing for a birthday/Christmas gift to get me. A couple of probing questions that I answered without much thought, then later as I am standing outside his office at the copier he asks me; “Have you ever tried Opium?”

I wasn’t entirely sure why he was asking except that he recently had surgery so I immediately piped up with; “Yes. It was prescribed to me once. Belladonna. Good stuff.”

He looked at me. He looked at me harder then said; “I was talking about the perfume.”

Oh, that Opium. The one they sell without a prescription. I thought you said “opiate”.