Bah! Humbug!
25.DEC.00
Christmas shopping is right up near the top of the list of chores which we'd both prefer to avoid. The horrible snow this year and unseasonably cold temperatures have been such an impediment, requiring much extra effort just to get out of the house and on the road. We had to dig out a space for the car after the first snowfall; and we had to dig it out anew each time there was more snow.
In true Chicago style, we put out empty milk crates to stake our claim, and even so, some yuppie scum with suburban license plates still took our space one evening. The nerve!The extra physical activity takes it's toll on my aging back, and my bad knee is acting up, too. So I feel I must take extra care to prevent falling. The extra stress, physical and emotional, leaves me exhausted at the end of the day, and reminds me that I am indeed getting older, and results in a lot of self flagellation about not taking better care of myself, not doing exercise and in general just contributes to an even lousier general attitude.
Since I rarely go to real stores throughout the year, I found that I was a little out of touch with what's available in the regular marketplace. We already have plenty of stuff, and what we do purchase now is mostly from auctions, garage sales, flea markets or thrift stores. That means we are also out of touch with real prices. I hate to sound like Scrooge, but I hate to pay retail for things. Unfortunately, my children's taste and desires don't quite fit my collectors bargain shopping mentality, so I really don't feel comfortable giving them *really great buys* except as what I call *bonus gifts.* Besides, I give them that sort of stuff throughout the year, so unless I find some really unusual item, to fill a particular niche in a collection, it doesn't seem special enough for real Christmas giving.
I'm also not that good at obligatory gifting--especially not when it all has to all be bought at one time. Even though I may see an item during the year which I think would make an excellent gift for someone, I never seem able to make the commitment to the purchase at the time. So I'm left, at the last minute, combing everyone's list, and feeling like I am simply filling orders unimaginatively.
Then there's my need to "even up." In spite of how much I spend, I really feel that each child, adult or not, needs the same actual “number” of gifts to open...a holdover from their childhood. Fear of hearing comments like, “Hey, how come he got more gifts than me!?” still ring in my head. So I worry endlessly over whether or not I'm being fair. As a result, I sometimes end up not always giving as thoughtfully as I should. I actually got stomach aches over it all this year. So crazy.
Something which struck me while looking for clothing was how almost exactly alike every line was, right down to the five acceptable colors. Everything was very plain in gray, black, olive green, navy blue and red, in the same fabrics, corduroy, polar fleece or cotton. Sometimes the brand logo was added as a decorative element. Occasionally, there was one very bright color added into the mix. All that uniformity makes me wonder about how strong the need to fit in, to match must be these days. I actually came away somewhat grateful that I shop at the thrift stores or buy the odd piece of artist made clothing when I have a chance. Where did individuality and creativity go?
While we were in Best Buy® we were inundated with the annoying sounds of the usual horrible music blasting from the single-most irritating station. So we did manage to manufacture a moment of guerrilla art...or was it sound, as we wandered the aisles, changing all the stations to NPR. When we walked away, we looked back at the sales help looking slightly confused, as they tried to sort it all out. We decided to make it a policy do that whenever we have a chance. Join us...help make it a national movement to switch all electronic stores' radios and TV's to public radio or public TV broadcasts nationwide.
I had been looking forward to celebrating with the family this year especially since my youngest son and his intended came in to town from Washington state to visit this week. It was our first chance to meet her. 
(Here's a silly picture of them.)
I really liked her...we all did, but more about that and more pics maybe later in another entirely separate entry....)
Anyhow, because he was leaving on the 23rd, we decided to have a family get together on Friday, the 22nd.
I had finally managed to get the gift issues sorted out in my head so that I felt pretty good about it and not so filled with anxiety. Everything was wrapped, the salad was made, and we were all ready to go to my oldest son, Rob's, for our celebration. We left in what we considered to be plenty of time to pick up some bread, pick up my daughter and her S.O. on the way, and and drive the 45 minutes out to the western 'burbs to my son's. We loaded the overabundance of packages into the car, and felt luck must have been with us as the trusty old Honda started up in the near zero temperature. One thing you must plan when you live in Chicago is to leave for the western ‘''burbs well before 3:00 pm on any week day. The expressways just cannot handle rush hour traffic. Leaving by 2:00 pm arrive between three and four seemed like plenty of time. Wrong!
First we found ourselves frozen into our parking space. No amount of rocking and pushing and digging that the two of us could do alone was going to free us. We had to call daughter and boyfriend to drive over and help push us out. Then we'd have to follow them back to their place so they would not loose their parking spaces.
School was letting out just down the street and the traffic started to pile up in our block with people waiting to pick up their kids, so by the time they got over here, there was a little traffic snarl. Fortunately, it was easy enough to get us out of the space, we just needed some young muscles added to the old. OK, so we were off, headed back to their place. As we turned the corner, we realized we'd forgotten to put our black milk crates back in our space to save it. Since we were coming back late we couldn't take the chance and just forget it. So we felt compelled to go around the block again, which meant we had to re-negotiate all the school traffic, only to find that or daughter's intelligent boyfriend had already thought of that.
Finally we headed over to to pick them up and transfer all their stuff into our car, and begin the journey. Having lost a little time, traffic was beginning to grow a little congested on the main streets to the expressway and downtown, so we decided to skip stopping for bread. Once we got from the Kennedy to the Eisenhower, it was like driving at the proverbial snail's pace in a giant parking lot. It was now 3:15, so we placed the first of three calls to my son to tell them we were stuck in traffic, and that we would be late.
I quit smoking two years ago and let me tell you this was one of the major moments in those two years when all I wanted was a cigarette. I was so stressed and annoyed at one point, that I half seriously wanted to get out of the car and run ahead a block or so, just to get rid of the adrenaline coursing through my body. Suffice it to say that all of us in the car weathered the trip in the best possible humor under the circumstances. So, let's just skip over those two hours... yes, that's right...two hours... stuck in the car in traffic. We finally made it there about 5:00 pm.
I can deal with being a few minutes late, but I hated being this late. I felt terrible, because I felt I was somehow personally responsible for holding things up. My enthusiasm for the festivities in general was rapidly diminishing; and it was definitely not putting me in the best mood for a party where my ex-husband and his family would also be attending; and where the first words I heard him utter as I walked in the door were, "Finally, now we can eat!"
Strike one!
(...to be continued)