Category: Holidays

Family, Holidays, Humor, Marriage, Money November 13, 2009November 13, 2009

Unlucky Indeed!

“This is always going to be a problem for us, you know.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well in June there’s your birthday, July our anniversary. And then November is my birthday, followed by Christmas.”
“Oh my. We did not time that well…”
-J. and C.

birt_127 J.’s birthday is tomorrow, and oh the problems! I ordered his present weeks ago, and after much angst that it wouldn’t come in time, I happily opened the mailbox yesterday to find it snuggled inside along with my mother’s christmas present (Poverty means that you have to buy presents in conjunction with paychecks. The more people in your life, the more paychecks you have to start thinking ahead. I have to think very far ahead). I got it inside, past J.’s grabbing hands and demands of, “What did you get me?!” and snuck it into its hiding place, when an Awful Realization struck.

I think J. may already have what I got him. Uh oh…

Never mind! He’s under orders to appear absolutely thrilled in front of my in-laws and I will quietly exchange it later if it is in fact, as I fear, a double.

Another realization that struck me this past week, though not as awfully as the first, is that I am now in charge of J.’s birthday. His last one we celebrated at his sister’s house complete with parents and four nieces and nephews (which I have now inherited) and it was definitely his parents’ show. This year it’s my job. Which meant a frantic scramble to call up Darling and my sister-in-law to coordinate a family get together. Today I ordered the cake he wanted (thereby pushing Gio and Buddy’s presents to next paycheck’s shopping list. I’m already behind!) and am I hoping haven’t forgotten anything else.

Also unlucky? I’ve already run through my allotted Pandora minutes for the month. Sigh.

Family, Holidays, Humor, Shopping November 9, 2009November 10, 2009

Gifts That I Keep On Giving

“Advice is cheap, Ms. Molloy. It’s the things that come gift wrapped that count!”
-Hello, Dolly!

Handmade be damned! I buy holiday presents for people. Reason the first: I am not in the least bit crafty, I prefer forming words to paper mache. Reason the second: I like shopping way too much.

Of course, the holidays get more and more expensive every year as a result, to say nothing of it being harder to come up with ideas. My father, J. and Venice have birthdays this month, mere days apart. In December, Fairy, Elle, and Buddy have birthdays all orbiting Christmas. In addition to family and god-family this year, I now have in-laws to buy presents for! Remember the panic I endured last year when I was only J.’s girlfriend? Multiply that times siblings, nieces, nephews, and pets. Gah!

Last year for J.’s birthday I got him tickets to an NBA game for his favorite team, in the lower half of the stadium. Ergo, I was Girlfriend of the Year. In retrospect, I completely shot myself in the foot because there is nowhere to go but down from there. And even my Christmas presents last year were pretty good!

How am I supposed to keep doing this for the next fifty to sixty years?!

Family, Fashion, Fun, Holidays, Humor September 29, 2009September 29, 2009

Costume Dramas

“Make it classy.”
“I thought we were supposed to be sexy.”
“It is possible to be both.”
-Sushi for Beginners, Marian Keyes

Trick 'r Treat Halloween was easily my favorite holiday growing up. I have fond memories of strategically mapping out my plan of attack in neighborhoods in the search for candy, staggering home under the weight of a bulging pillowcase, and spending days or even weeks on my costumes. For a chunk of my childhood we lived in Germany so we had Fasching instead of Halloween (German version of Carnivale), but since the concept of costume + candy + pranking remained the same, there wasn’t too much of a difference to me.

See back in my day, darlings, we made our costumes. Sure some kids were starting to run around in polyester store-bought Power Rangers outfits, but I always regarded them as sad, unimaginative creatures more to be pitied than envied. Even the year I went as a ghost, I took the time to shred my own sheets and drape them hauntingly about my white and black smudged face. My mother would take me to fabric stores to wrinkle my six year old forehead over the merits of historically correct Indian vs. Polar Bear, rifle with me through the chest that held my hats, boots, and scarves that I used for dress up, and applaude my ideas enthusiastically.

That's right. This guy. Hung out with dead people. — That's right. This guy. Bit of a creeper. Hung out with dead people.

The crowning achievement of my dorkiness trick-or-treating career was the year I announced impressively that I wanted to go as…wait for it…Anubis.

That’s right. Egyptian god of the dead. I think I was seven or eight at the time. As an adult I can now only begin to fathom what thoughts might have scrambled through my impressed/perplexed/weirded out parents’ minds as they heard this plan, but they rallied with admirable self control. My dad helped me fashion a jackal head out of a baseball cap for the base, wound about with wire to form the long snout, face, ears, and Egyptian headpiece, and then mummified (pun!) in paper mache. This whole contraption was then painted with black, gold, and glaring white eyes. A baby towel wrapped around my waist, a white tee-shirt, and a cardboard collar painted gold with blobs of color for the gems completed the look.

No one I begged candy off of had a clue who I was. It was also sweltering hot so by the time I made it home, black streaks of sweat and paint had slithered down my face, but I had the most absolutely amazing costume ever!

My childhood memories have been trashy-ed past recognition. (Editor's Note: these are TAME).

And nowadays what am I left with? The only Halloween costumes available to me (since I can’t sew) are cheap, mass produced trashy stuff usually involving thigh-highs and not much else. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate a touch of tart as much as the next girl, but I also firmly adhere to the “time and place” mentality. I also believe absolutely that sexy and slutty are not the same things at all. For example, one year one of my flatmates went as a Victoria Secret Angel: bras, panties, wings. Fin. Kiri and I were saloon girls, complete with fishnets and garters, but we took the time to make sure that the OK stayed corralled!

Trick-or-treating seems to be on the decline, too many weirdos out there I suppose, but I’m still debating how to get in on the holiday this year. Perhaps a party with fabulous friends? Or be boring and just watch Hitchcock movies? I’ve never been to a haunted castle/cornmaze/whatever which seem to be all the rage in these parts, so I’m going to try to trick (or treat) J. into taking me to one. Small Dog has no comment on the possibility of thigh highs.

EDITOR’S ADDITION: COURTESY OF DAD

A bit Wylie E. Cayote, but I nevertheless feel as if you, the reader, should be impressed at my creativity! — A bit Wylie E. Coyote, but I nevertheless feel as if you, the reader, should be impressed at my creativity! C. Small Dog, Genius.

Small Dog Syndrome