Tuesday, December 8, 2009

When pickers marry rippers

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Yesterday I went Christmas shopping. Today, I will wrap and maybe put up some decorations. It is hard to get all excited about Christmas stuff when the kids aren't around. Doing holiday stuff alone is lonely.

Today, I invited my sister over to work on a project of hers while I wrap. That will help. I'll set a fire in the fireplace (well, okay, pellet stove with window, but a fire, nonetheless), and turn on holiday music. Maybe light some cinnamon candles. Maybe take an antidepressant (kidding...).

I am pleased with my purchases, excited for my family to open their gifts. That is the real good stuff about Christmas for me; everyone home, gathered together, ripping wrapping and laughing and exclaiming.

My kids and I are wrapping rippers. We became such as a direct and deliberate contradiction to George's family, who open gifts one at a time, one person at a time, carefully peeling away each bit of tape, carefully preserving the wrapping paper, stopping with both ends of the package open, and guessing what's inside, feeling, guessing, picking at tape, stopping, looking meaningfully all around, catching each person's eye, turning the package over and over in their lap, picking tape, sliding fingers under the tape joining the pieces...ENOUGH, ALREADY!! Open the damn gift and let's get this horse in the barn! You people think this is fun? It is not; it is agony and passive-aggressive bullshit. God! It makes me want to head to the nearest liquor cabinet, regardless of the time of day!

The first time these people saw that my kids and I were becoming out-of-control, ripping and laughing and shouting and helping one another, they pursed their lips and made disapproving comments about savoring the moment. Savor this: my people live for six and a half decades. Yours for nine, you know, as in ninety years or more. You have the time to screw around with day long gift exposing. We don't. We need to get to the good stuff so we can enjoy it before we die. And hurry to the table. And then to the liquor cabinet.

Merry Christmas!

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