Christmas season is now in full swing

The Christmas presents are showing up on our doorstep and in the mailbox. It seems that most of the shopping this year has been done at that great gift warehouse online.

I miss shopping in person. I like hearing Christmas carols in the background while I shop. I miss shopping with my mom. I am of the age that I want to touch whatever I am considering buying. I realize that is no longer an option and that it is a sign that I am not getting old but rather that I am already old.

Since my brothers and I have given up on getting each other presents, I have found several things that would be something I think they would actually like. In past years when I had found what I thought was the perfect present for them I was always wrong. Very wrong. They would look at me like I was crazy when they opened their packages. I would explain my reasoning and they would nod in such a way that I knew I had disappointed them once again.

To be honest, I often had the same reaction to their purchases. I have more garden statuettes and signs that I have places for them. On the other hand, I truly love the hyacinths and paperwhites my husband gets for me. I like the colors he picks, the ritual of placing them in their special glasses, placing them in the fridge to give them a bit of winter and finally bringing them out of the fridge and watching them grow into beautiful, fragrant flowers to brighten the wintery temperatures outside.

My niece, Jane, gave me an early present. She asked me to write a Santa letter for her daughter, Molly, who is 5-years-old and cute as a button. Since I am one of Santa’s official scribes I wrote out a letter referencing the igloo that their elf on the shelf had made out of rolls of toilet paper.

It seems the other elves thought that looked like fun and tried to make one out of marshmallows.

It didn’t work out so well for them.

I was the weird kid in English class who actually liked writing, especially when I could dive into a land of my own making. I tried selling Santa letters once but barely made enough money to pay for the classified ad. Having Jane ask for a letter was a Christmas project that I enjoyed doing.

When I am asked if I am ready for Christmas I always answer no. No matter how many gifts I wrap or cookies I bake, there is always one more present to buy or chore to do. 

For instance, this is the second time I have typed this column. I had it finished last night and wanted to proofread it this morning. Proofreading isn’t as easy as it looks. We tend to read what should be there instead of what is actually on the page.

I opened the document this morning, thinking it would only take a few minutes to make sure it was acceptable … I expected to go over the column one more time before sending it wafting through the sky to land in the proper email folder at the newspaper. Why, oh why do I even bother? And, no, I do not have any idea what I wrote the last time. Those words are lost for eternity.

I am debating on whether or not to send Christmas cards this year. I usually think of the cards as a way to catch up with friends and family. My handwriting has gone downhill to the point where it is completely illegible unless I concentrate very hard on each and every letter.

It seems that Christmas cards are going the way of shopping in actual stores. It is just one more chore instead of a way to catch up with loved ones.

Now if you will excuse me, I need to get this missive sent before it disappears again.