A December to Remember

One of the best parts about the month of December is the television commercials. In the past some of them have made me cry—like the Folger’s commercial when the son comes home from college early or when the Clydesdales are pulling the sleigh to the Budweiser jingle.

This year in particular the Target advertisements really tickled me—especially the early ones where the frenzied woman was preparing to shop as if she was entering a decathlon. It was an insanity that felt eerily normal.

But the marketing campaign that we (my husband and I ) fell victim to was Lexus’ December to Remember. I just could not get the song out of my head. Nana Nana na na na na…….

I bought into the fantasy as the cell phone with the Lexus song played or the Mom opened the music box. The snow was falling and there was a luxury vehicle with a big red bow in the driveway.

And it was time to condense the Ciccone driveway population. The lot needed some editing. So on Sunday we played let’s make a deal, spun 2 cars into one, and today Santa will be delivering my husband a new car. Just like that. My husband told the salesman that he spends more time in DSW searching for shoes.

So I have already downloaded the music. I  have secured a big red bow. It’s going to be a December to remember—just like on TV.

I love Madison Avenue.

Re-gifting

 I would like to say I have never re-gifted. The truth of the matter is I have---but I have rules. Because fundamentally I believe re-gifting is wrong--unethical. I can’t help but think that re-gifting is modified cheating or lying or a combination of both.

The only items I believe “legally” can be re-gifted are alcoholic beverages or gift cards. That’s it. That is my cardinal rule. And it’s because you may not return bottles back to the liquor store of origin (the law forbids it) and a gift card is equivalent to cash.

I believe that if you receive a gift and either you do not like it or you have no need for it then either it must be donated to charity OR given to someone with the clear understanding that it is something you received from someone else but perhaps they might like/and or be able to use.  But it cannot be done in lieu of buying something new. Items “up” for re-gifting are surplus— freebies-- not wampum.  They are the bonus—like when you purchase Estee Lauder mascara and you get the free mini make-up bag with ubiquitously colored lipstick, nail polish and eyeshadow.

And it is okay to make the surplus item a supplemental gift as long as it does not factor away from the monetary value of the intended gift. So the mailman, in addition to receiving his standard appropriated cash gift also receives that box of Rocher chocolates that I do not like that was in that gift basket I received last May. The chocolates are a bonus.

And here’s the final thing—if you hate a received gift item that much why would you inflict it on someone else? To do so is almost abusive. Besides which the point of a gift is to selflessly elate another with an offering –not force pawned off ugly crap that belongs in a dumpster on a captive recipient.

I have a very close relative who shall remain nameless because she is not always appreciative of the extensive blog-time she receives. That relative and her cronies exchange gifts every year. The exchanged gifts are re-gifted so often that at some point there is a high statistical probability that the gift recipient will receive something they gave someone else two years prior. Their re-gifting cycle is a closed circuit. The only portal of escape is death.

Some people define re-gifting  as “re-purposing” or “going green.” I call it being cheap.

    

Brain Freeze

Rick Perry has been having an awful time remembering things lately—his latest mishap was not remembering the voting age or the date of the general election.

At the  bank the other day the teller was telling me how her youngest son spent Thanksgiving in California eating sushi. Of her 3 sons her youngest is the most adventurous. I laughed and said of my three daughters my youngest is my most adventurous too---and then I attempted to tell her how she planned on taking a business course in  South American in the country of……except I had nothing. I couldn’t remember the name of the country at all even though I absolutely knew which country it was. And the teller tried to help me along naming every country in South America that she could think of—but none of them were it. I was mortified. I could not believe that my brain was that frozen and all attempts to unfreeze it were in vain.

An hour later when I had long left the bank and the information was of no consequence I remembered the country was Nicaragua.

So although I do not know a whole lot about Rick Perry and his political agenda I do feel some pathos towards him. He likely knew the voting age as well as the date of the general election. His brain was just toying with him—making a mockery of his attempts at recall. Brain freezes have no bearing on intellect. They are a function of aging circuits. And even those cans of Prestone de-icer won’t work or Rick Perry would be huffing it by now and having the de-icing company donate money to his campaign.

The Death of Christmas Mouse

Jasper may not have been the friendliest dog, but he was never destructive. The only thing he chewed on a routine basis was food. I never had to worry about leaving him alone in the house. I knew all my belongings were safe—all of them but my calico mini-print and felt stuffed Christmas mouse. Christmas mouse was not safe in Jasper’s presence. I rescued the little felt guy no less than 3 times from the jaws of destruction.

The other night as I went about shutting off Christmas tree and mantle lights, I saw a big pile of fluff on the rug. It was accompanied by a felt tail and felt ears. There was chewed up calico print fabric bits everywhere. And under the table was the perfectly disemboweled shell of Christmas mouse. His felt topcoat was torn next to him. Christmas mouse was no more.

Despite his tainted rap sheet Jasper was not the perpetrator of the crime. He was not ruled out by pawprints or canine DNA. There was no video surveillance or lie detector either. Jasper was ruled out by the fact that it was physically impossible for him to have jumped up and retrieved poor Christmas mouse from the end table. Cosmo was the culprit. Cosmo inflicted the mortal wounds. No confession was necessary. This case was closed.

I can’t help wonder what it was about Christmas mouse that prompted such violence from two dogs. Perhaps in my absence that mouse became animated and taunted them. Perhaps there was some evil that lurked within that stuffed creature and my dogs were protecting me. Christmas mouse, despite his cute outfit was still in fact vermin. Because all of my other Christmas items—even the ones at eye level: Mr. Snowman, Christmas Angel baby, and Santa-- remain untouched.

All I know is that I have one less Christmas chachka---it’s one less thing I have to pack up and put away. And that is not necessarily a bad thing.

Gift Bags

So while yes, Jesse Weiner was the one who told me that there was no such thing as Santa, I still needed hard evidence. And my mother was not very good at covering up the no-Santa crime scene. She left evidence everywhere that would have made any child suspicious. The least of which was the wrapping paper. I wondered how it could be that both my parent’s gifts and Santa’s gifts were wrapped exactly the same way in exactly the same paper and exactly the same trim. It seemed implausible. Jesse seemed to have  correct information.

When my children were younger I did all my Christmas wrapping in coordinating papers with coordinating bows and coordinating tags.  I even trimmed special gifts with fresh pine or holly. I enjoyed being very Martha Stewart-like. I do not do that anymore. I prefer to use my time in other ways.

Nowadays all my gifts are placed in gift bags. Gift bags have improved holiday task completion as much as pre-lit Christmas trees and premade toll house cookie dough. Gifts can be made aesthetically pleasing in a flash. The added feature is that if you want to add (or delete) anything to the already pre-bagged gift you can do so with ease—no more carefully pulling up the scotch tape and sliding the box out to insert the forgotten or added item. And the best part is if you are thrifty, you can reuse the bag without the shame formerly attributed to people who tear-lessly unwrapped gifts so that they could save the gift paper.

And while the speed of which one can reveal a gift housed in a bag is greater than the speed of ripping open a wrapped present, I am over the consequential decrease in anticipation. And even if the price point of a bag is higher than that of a wrapped gift, I prefer the convenience of the gift bag.

My children were much older than I was before they discovered that there was no Santa. Maybe it was because I was a better covert operator than my mother— I was better at covering my tracks. Santa's wrapping paper was unique. I also expected my girls to be suspicious like I was . But it could also be because there was no Jesse Weiner living next door--- and gift bags hadn’t been invented yet.

A Well-lit Tree

I put up two Christmas trees. The first one is artificial. It is the “children’s tree.” It is decorated with ornaments that chronicle my girls’ life. The story begins with baby’s first Christmas ornaments and then progresses from Sesame Street characters all the way to Family Guy.

My second tree is real—it is mine. I dress it with bows and special glass ornaments from my youth as well as some still left from my father’s youth. I place it in my dining room so we can enjoy its beauty as we eat Christmas dinner.

My mother recuperated after her eye surgery last week at my house. Post-surgery her vision was very limited. Recovery was slow and frustrating. She was trying very hard in the face of her limitations.  And despite her poor vision she went into my living room to “see” the first of my two trees. My mother understands that trees are my thing—I love them. I am precise and deliberate when I decorate them.

And in admiration and support through the visual haze she told me That tree is beautiful! You always do such a good job with the lights—they are always so even! And I smiled and said I hope so. That tree is pre-lit.

And then we both giggled.

Sometimes laughter is the best medicine. It provides a well needed temporary cure.

A Shopper's Annoyance

There have been occasions when I have had to purchase a book at Barnes and Noble and when I directed myself to the area where the book should have been located I found it wasn’t there. But the remedy was easy. I simply went to one of the in house computers and it directed me to either the correct area of the store to find the book myself or a way to purchase it online.

Department stores do not have computers for customer’s access in that way. Many have nothing more than a price scanner. Price scanners know nothing about inventory.

I found myself in Lord and Taylor today in the vortex of their Friends and Family sale. There were people everywhere. And despite the added holiday employees the stock could not be replenished quickly enough nor could the piles of clothing be folded at a rate equal to the rate at which the shoppers messed it up.

All I needed was one final ensemble gift for my mother to give to my husband. It should have taken no time at all. All that was needed was a casual pair of pants, a sweater and a shirt. Shopping for men is typically easy. Unfortunately it took me over an hour.

I kept picking out a style of pants that did not have my husband’s size but the only way to see if the store did have his size somewhere in stock was to have the cashier look it up the computer. The problem was there were a zillion people in the cashier’s line and those in line customers did not consume any rum-laced eggnog before they shopped. Everyone was cranky—and it appeared—coupon less or coupon-phrenic.

So I waited in line with no less than 5 different styles of men’s pants for 15 minutes while the exceptionally rude oriental woman in front of me who spoke little to no English argued with the cashier why Ralph Lauren apparel was excluded from the 20% off. And after mentally choking the woman with a Joseph Abboud tie I learned from the cashier that all the pants I wanted to purchase were out of stock and she had no way to check if they were available online—all she could do was check every other Lord and Taylor store in the tri-state area in case I wanted to drive there and purchase the items.

That wasn’t happening.

So in frustration I searched again and found a pair of pants in his size just like a pair he already owned and then spent way too much money on a silk and cotton blend sweater because I had no more patience and picked out a shirt to match the pants and the sweater which while it matched was never going to be versatile enough and called it a day.

Sometimes at Christmastime I do not feel all that merry. And even my black card which allows me 20% off on Ralph Lauren attire despite the exclusion cannot make me happy.