It's a Gift

I am a shopper. Guilty as charged.

I like a good sale. I enjoy browsing solo, fingering all of the fabrics, trying on clothes, imagining all the places I'd wear them. I love jewelry and shoes and purses and coats. I enjoy the feeling of bringing home bags full of bargains, pulling them all out and laying them on the bed. I immediately hang up new items, taking pleasure in how they'll look when paired with old pieces.

However, this time of year, the shopping turns outward.

Not that I don't give gifts throughout the months, but this season I really do enjoy thinking not of myself, but of what those in my life want, and wouldn't buy for themselves. There's nothing quite like the feeling of knowing you've selected just the right gift, and watching that person open it with glee. I get a certain sparkle in my eye as I witness someone enjoying the present that was selected just for them.

I think it is funny how when someone is opening your gift, you get all nervous. People tend to get a little apologetic, even before you've gotten it out of the tissue paper. Have you noticed that? You know, "well, I just thought you may like it, but if you don't, there's a receipt inside and you can take it back, no hard feelings, I promise." They hardly breathe, and it is one giant run-on sentence.

The truth is, just having someone go to all that trouble is enough. It is flattering to think that they took the time to choose, buy, and gift wrap something with you in mind.

At our unwrapping ceremony, which we've somehow managed to make last about four hours, complete with mimosas and a breakfast casserole break, my Dad undoubtedly sticks a bow to his head, with a totally straight face. Last year, George's first Christmas with our family, when he put a bow on his head, I knew he was the one for my sister.

One of my favorite parts of the holiday shopping season is all of the secrets. The projects, mentally plotted and meticulously crafted, all designed to fit that certain person's character. The gifts, thought-out, budgeted for, and purchased with just one person in mind. The boxes, stuffed full and gift wrapped carefully (though it's not my greatest skill) with names attached for Christmas morning.

I keep a list each year, in this flimsy little notebook, of each person on my Christmas list, and what I have bought for them. It's a tally, of sorts, to make sure everything is kept fairly even (and to make sure that my Dad doesn't get pajama pants every year). I tend to spoil my family, as I just go overboard in finding lovely things that I just know they'll adore.

This year, which will come as no surprise, we've all committed to "take it easy" and "pare down" and "go light" on the gift giving. My family has hosted a wedding, and several trips, quite a few parties and showers and 30th birthday parties and other festivities, so we're all tightening our wallets.

Or so we say.

It can't be helped, really. It's not about the money for me. I just love giving gifts.

My family has never been one to draw names, or just give one present per person. Our tree, quite frankly, on Christmas morning, looks like something that belongs in a mall. With a fake Santa seated on a plush club chair nearby. See?

That doesn't really even do it justice. What you can't see, off to the left, is the 50 other gifts hiding under the base of the tree. The poor nutcrackers and reindeer that decorate the base of the steps in the foyer are just about drowning in there.

I can't wait.

Let the projects, secrets, sales and list-making begin.

I'm in the spirit.