Buying presents tra le, tra la

This is somewhere in the 5th circle of Hades, because it will never be right. It is designed to make you realize that you aren’t God or Santa and you cannot do this by yourself.

For me:
Let ME order what I want, divvie up the presents and then let everyone decide which unmarked box they would like to give to Mama. (I REALLY do want a new broom).

I have a great quirky gift for Pat in Utah. It’s perfect and personal and she’ll love it.

I bought exactly what Marian the Librarian asked for, although I have seen a picture of the little driving car that looks like a rabbit with big rabbity feet with a wheel that she is convinced is a spinning wheel. I hope it knows it IS a spinning wheel or it will have an unhappy life. But if by chance it is really a pedal car, she might really like sitting in it and pedaling those rabbity feet all over the house and up and down the drive.
Makes for a lovely image, doesn’t it? (She got a book of great import.)

Then there is my family:
Ordered Levis and good golf shirts with pockets in what he said were his sizes.
Hmmumft.
Maybe they WERE his sizes once upon a time. Just not now.
A man with a 39 inch waist won’t fit into a shrink to fit 33×35, when what he needs is a 37 x36.
He can’t wear a vintage Tony Lama 32 belt, either.
And he hasn’t been wearing a medium in shirts in a long time.
Just saying.
And I got him an electrical brand with his name on it, so he can mark projects he does. It’ll be here when it gets here. Probably around the same time the new jeans that actually fit will get here.

My son is very easy because he will shop around and say things like “That. That one” Picks it up.”See? That one. That one there, That one on the shelf. That very one. That’s what I want,” and into the bag it goes. He likes cooking stuff–new cookware stuff makes him happy and he likes cookbooks and will actually read them like novels.

We’ll do it together and it is just a tad funny to hear us. “Know what sounds good? Deep fried Veleveta and white bread.”
“Like how?
‘Like bacon grease and fry up some green tomatoes and then use some of that wonderbread with Velveeta and fry that up l”
“Like a grilled sandwich?”
“Kinda. More deep fried. And bacon grease. Has to be bacon grease.”
“Whucha gonna do? Kill an entire PIG to get that much bacon grease or just try to kill your enitre family with bacon for a month just so can have this sandwich?” which was my plan, really. Lots of bacon and lots of those nice sweet apple sausage links.
We’ll talk about where I can get my hands on that much manteca. Quite entertains us.

He’s the kind of cook who should have a show and call it Easier than You Think. He would make a million.

He likes to be able to order books online so I have fixed him an Amazon account with actual money in it. He has gotten smart and does what I do, puts all his Amazon desires on a wish list and lets the library order them so we can read them and say yay or neigh to their purchase…or just borrow the whole series. Then I put money in his account and he can order, Works out nicely and makes him so happy for so little.

My daughter is moving TOMORROW, with promise that she’ll be back for Christmas. (TOO SOON. She’s leaving too soon) I bought her an evening bag with a little charm for her keys and some kitchen linens and some bath mats and a humongous first aid kit (one for the house; one for the car) and a little car case with jumper cables and that squirt stuff you can put in a flat and it inflates it and seals it off. It had some tools in it. You know, just in case kind of things. Sending her a fully equipped sewing box so she can mend stuff herself. She can fix seams, hems and buttons. The end.

Money to my daughter in Utah because she is going to need it AND A FIRST AID KIT when Jase leaves for Afghanistan and she moves back here to live with her in-laws. This will be his last deployment. After this, they’ll go to Britain for a while. They were in Utah for about ten years, so Britain would be a nice break for them.

The rest of my family? We’ve never got gift giving down to a comfortable art. If I bring a nice gift, Judy is in a bother because she hadn’t given it a thought, so I’ll get a wooden spoon with a ribbon round it. So we try to avoid even talking during the holidays. The few times I have called her, she’s literally said nine words. ” Oh, Chloe! Merry Christmas, Here, talk to Felon Boy” and I talk about nothing to Felon Boy for about 5 minutes and then say something like “is Judy around?” “Oh, ho ho ho, she just left! Something about getting a turkey or something, Do you want to call her later?” No, I do not want to call her later and I don’t want to call her now. In fact, since the phone lines go both ways, I think I’ll let her catch me for a few years, (In October, she went missing. I called the Sheriff’s Department and they went over to see if she was alright. I hadn’t heard from her in two or three months and her emails never got any response…so I wanted them to go over and see if they still even lived there or if she was even alive.

She was both alive and mad as a wet hen. She had been busy with the duties of the day and simply to involved in making her little house a heaven right here on this earth and attempting to ignore that which does not add to the richness of her life. So she was calling me to let me know that she has plenty of friends and worry not, she is fine and will remain fine without any input or checking up on by law enforcement instigated by me! Now what did I want?”
Jude, I only wanted to make sure you were alive. Now I know and I’ll never bother you again.”
And when I use words like never, I know how long that is. So I don’t bandy them about.

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