You Shouldn't Have! No, Really...

(December 09, 2004)

What is it, December 9th? I'd better start practicing my Exuberant Appreciation Face. Christmas is coming.

Of all the people I know, I alone live purely by the old adage "it's the thought that counts." Because the thought is all I ever have to go by. I get, without a doubt, the worst presents. I'm not bitter about it or anything, it's just really, really funny.

It's been going on since I was little, when, as ill-formed as our small brains are at that age, it WASN'T funny at all. Just seemed to be a direct measurement of my invisibility.

"We can't be bothered to actually get to know you, so here's a baseball glove and a small vinyl purse with a picture of Michael Jackson emblazoned on it. We figure it's a fifty/fifty shot."

I seem to exude some kind of Gift Radar Buster wherein, I could be sitting there absolutely certain that someone (parents, boyfriend, even workplace Secret Santa) should know perfectly well that what they've found and wrapped up for me is all wrong. But they don't know it's wrong. Opposite of that. They think it's perfect. "I saw this and thought of you," as they gleefully give me something...bad, just so...so bad.

The thought, as they say, does count. But holy god is that a ceramic dogwood tree and is there a clock in its trunk?

I, on the other hand, am an excellent gift giver. I think it's just because I listen, notice, and remember. I'm thinking about gifts all the time! Whenever I'm out shopping, I see something that just cries out a person's name to me. But I can't buy them all, though I LOVE giving gifts, because I don't have a billion dollars to spend on everyone I know. God I wish I had a billion dollars to spend on everyone I know.

Not everyone can shop. It isn't a personality flaw. They just don't have the knack for it. That, combined with, I suppose, the challenge that I appear to be, spells disaster.

My uncle gave me big, bright earrings once. I remember it was rare because he'd only ever given me one thing, a coral necklace. It was nice, one of those bright orange jobbies that look great with a tan. Actually, he gave one to me and one to my mother upon returning from a trip to the far east. He said very somberly "they dove the seas of China" to get this coral. What a windbag, you could pick up those necklaces for ten bucks at any beach shop. My mother and I cracked up.

The earrings he gave me sometime later were like, butterflies or something. I forget. I do remember that they were for pierced ears. Okay,
a)I don't wear earrings and
b) Even if I did, I do not have pierced ears. In fact, I only have one ear. Did you know that? Probably not because
a)I don't think about it much so probably didn't mention it, HOWEVER
b)If you were there when your only niece in the world was born, you'd have remembered the doctor saying "Oh my, this child has Unilateral Microtia and will require corrective surgery."

I'm no expert, but you just don't forget something like that.

Another time, I think it was for my 12th birthday, my mother grandly presented me with new clothes she'd picked out. Good god. It's 1982. I had to wear a uniform to school. Structured and boring. And plaid. She gave me, for new clothes, all these structured and boring things. And plaid. Pleated pants. Pleats on a fat girl.

I had to establish rules. "No pleats. No plaid. No corduroy. Nothing with flowers or animals." This was the era when white turtlenecks patterned with fleur de lis, clover, bunnies and dots were all the rage. I fucking hate fleur de lis, clover, bunnies and dots. And turtlenecks.

Once in eighth grade my mother gave me this button-down white shirt with trim in orange and pink...she also always wanted me in red, so I'd get something red quite a lot. More recently, there's been a whole slew of barrettes and hair clips. I have, I'm saying, like a ton of accessories for hair. The only thing I have ever worn in my hair are scarves, and more hair. Fake hair.

Hooo! I still have no idea who those clothes and accessories were for. Some daughter-in-her-mind that I never have become. No wonder she hates me. She wanted a pleated, plaid, structured, red, hair-clipped child.

Hilariously, to make it easy on Hub, I specifically didn't get certain items for myself, even though I could have easily picked these things up on my own. I was the one making the big money. I would do without, yet make sure to say frequently and with emphasis,

"BOY I wish we had a salad spinner."

"I need a wok!"

"We should go see Blue Man Group."

He just never got it. Too funny. I'm STILL drying my lettuce on paper towels.

And I'm so simple, really. Books. Music. Hardware. Home improvement. Cooking. I can be shopped for at, pretty much, Tower Records, Barnes & Noble, Home Depot and Crate & Barrel.

So, it's December 9th and I'm practicing my Exuberant Appreciation Face...

...needs work. I'll nail it by the 25th.