Last night I started my Christmas shopping.
…Hours spent trolling the Amazon and watching my shopping cart bulk up rapidly. I like to give myself zero limits for the first wide pass. Anything that I happen to see that fits my list of names, makes it in the cart, period.
…For several hours I freely pretend I’m a zillionaire who can buy all my people anything I bloody well want to. I picture their, “shut UP, nuh uh!” surprised faces, and me eating the recipes they make from that one cookbook…and games we’ll play, and all inclusive vacation packages they’ll go on…the private parties we’ll have on New Years at the Eiffel Tower or wherever else we happen to be…and how we will be living an independently wealthy lifestyle on some Greek island, in themed bungalows, outfitted with every person’s individuals styles and desires…all of which, I have bought them.
…It’s wondrous!
My spirit of giving would slap you silly were it not for the restrictions of my pocket book.
…But then, at some point, reality starts to kick in. I visit the cart to start paring down the list, one extravagant item at a time…until I have but a small bundle sort of pathetically smiling back at me, hoping to make the final cut.
It seems that every year the pile gets smaller, only cuz the cost of life…in general…keeps getting bigger.
…But every year, I tell myself, “it is the thought that counts”…and I think my big dreams for my friend’s and family’s biggest desires…and I gift them freely (even if only hypothetically), with my love.
On Christmas morning, these have all been exchanged for old books, or vintage record albums, or things of wine, or little memory moment nods in the form of a silly reminder trinket. It’s what I can manage…and only JUST…but it is something. And I’m confident that they all know, if I had the capacity of endless fundage, their lives would be sweet treats of never-ending pleasure.
…But instead, dear ones: you’ll get this thing. Some object that is close as I can manage to the greatest thing EVER! You’ll look at it a second and smile a bit, and read it or listen to it or play with it a little, then move on with the rest of your day. And that will just have to satisfy me. Cuz it’s what I am able to do.
…Holy cow though, we’d have a hella fun bonfire…partying on our own private island, kitted out in seven kinds of designer labels, eating catered Italian foods, drinkin’ the oldest French wines (just flown in) and served by shirtless cabana boys, while schmoozing with all our favorite bands, who play for us by turn, (and/or whatever specific celebrity of choice you so choose, holding court with you.)
…Whenever we aren’t otherwise busy at the spa, with our own individual masseuses….
…Which is what I REALLY wanted to get you this year.
…So, Happy Hypothetical Christmas, all!
And, you’re welcome.
~D
