Time

Shopping.

The usual stuff gets tossed into the shopping cart with the groceries. I sometimes call the carts buggies. That is apparently something worth the scornful laughter of people who believe Southern speech is an evil to be stamped out.

Whatever.

Regardless of what you call that three wheeled menace (so named because one wheel is on its own little planet and it isn't ours), the grocery shopping must be done.

I was astounded to come around the corner and discover a rack filled with giftcards for virtually everything you could imagine and a few things I'd never heard of.

Yeah, I need to get out more.

But the wonderful options made me consider something.

When I was a kid, it seemed like Christmas and birthdays were a million miles away and that the joy of opening whatever had been given was a kind of kiddie euphoria that made life seem wonderful.

Now, I think that we have become so 'complex' in our thinking that the joys of simply being in the present with one another's lives are filtering away. We want to be part of what goes on, but only conditionally.

I want to give my family and friends something this year but am unsure how to package it.

I want to give them my time.

Time that is undiluted, where my mind isn't wandering off onto my reply or the pot roast in the crock pot.

Time that is unfettered by whatever my concerns are and, instead, is directed solely to what they need, they want and they feel.

Time that we can use to laugh and cry and share the minutia of THEIR life and times.

Time is the one missing ingredient in most relationships. We talk about nations and people, the most frequent casualty of the day is the time to build something lasting by spending real, one to one, face to face time that builds friends, families and nations into something greater and stronger than they were before.

While I can't possibly cough up the money to feed all the starving children or clothe every naked soul, I can give up the time to feed my friends and family with the time that they are starving for. I can clothe them in the attention and care that lets them know just how very important they are to me every single day.

And that doesn't require a gift card or a floating balance.

Christmas time is here . . .

Explain to me why normally sane people do this to themselves?

Not content to give the ones you love something nice for Christmas, we beat ourselves into a froth trying to find Nirvana - the PERFECT Christmas gift ! (note the nice mixture of religious traditions there - and you thought I was dumb!)

Endless pacing down miles and miles of store aisles searching through "nice but not good enough" items that on any other day would have been delightful offerings to the people who mean the most to us.

But face it. You cannot personally stand to think that the beat in your heart, the twinkle in your eye and the very breath in your lungs will be stilled by the dreaded words 'What's this for?'.

As if those aren't bad enough, the sequel is even worse . . . 'I already have one of these. I bought it LAST WEEK.'

Clairvoyance should be offered with the candy canes this holiday season.

That, or a family sized bottle of 'Milk of Amnesia' that renders stupid remarks like that inert.

I was once given a sweater that for the life of me I would never have bought for myself, my personal love affair for Holsteins notwithstanding. Everyone was poised on 'go' to see my reaction for their gag gift.

Frankly, it was hilarity! That they remembered my passion for all things bovine with such a truly tacky sweater made it beautiful that day.

I loved the look on one lady's face at church. You do know you HAVE to wear you new clothes to church, right? (where were you raised? did wolves handle the job? PUT ON THOSE CLOTHES!)

So, this sweater, paired up with a smart and classy black skirt looked pretty good to the cow eyes in the room. I had on my cowboy boots too, so I was good to go.

I loved it so much, that I wore the sweater until it rotted. And I was sad to see it go. It had become a symbol of what Christmas is all about - giving someone a GIFT OF LOVE, not perfection.

Remember the story of the Littlest Angel . . .?

He was certainly no angel in the interpretation of impatient hosts of heaven. But he was most certainly an angel of great magnitude and generosity in the sight of God. And why? Because this little angel totally grasped the concept that when we give something with all of the love in our heart, whatever we have given is rendered beautiful and perfection becomes the gift that comes in due time as our memories recall the love that has been extended to us in the gift itself and from the giver.

So, I would like to offer a remedy that falls somewhere between the two extremes of beginning Christmas shopping before the paper from this year's gifts hits the floor and doing it all at the Wavaho Truck Stop and Gas Plaza in 5 minutes on Christmas Eve. . .


Shop for what LOVE leads you to instead of commercialism, fear and panic.

It just might make it the best Christmas ever!

Anonymity, a bargain at twice the price

Anonymity.

Blogs, boards and call-in radio depend on it.

No one willingly puts their real name out there for fear of identity theft.

In my case, it isn't theft I am concerned about. It's laughter.

Few people know that this is "me" on this page. Fewer still care.

But that isn't the point.

REALLY. As a society and as individuals, we have become WAY too comfortable with the idea that we can hide behind our online lives.

Because we HAVE become comfortable with our electronic communication, that face to face stuff has suffered. The ad on tv where the family all emails and text messages each other for dinner time used to be funny.

It isn't anymore.

I actually emailed a picture to my hubby who was 5 feet away from me with his laptop whirring away.

Nothing remotely anonymous about it, but there I was flinging this photograph OF OUR SON, no less, to him as he sat there absorbed in whatever he was doing.

When did this descent into madness happen?

Then, there are the public manners, private behavior issues that the internet and all of the digital friends it has bring into our lives.

We would never think of walking up to someone and spitting directly into their face while we looked at them.

So, how did we get an easy familiarity with doing it online?

I have to believe that it all comes down to that secrecy that we stupidly believe we have when we are online. We are about as invisible as a 3 year old who covers THEIR eyes and says "You can't see me!"

I can become anonymous by simply closing my blinds and picking up a book. I can be anonymous by letting the dude in traffic get in the line in front of me instead of showing him my skills in finger gestures. I can be anonymous by just letting go of the disconnected part of my life that is the digital divide.

My only concern is how long it will take me to do ANY of the above . . .

The Devil made me do it

You know you have done it.

So don't EVEN try to deny it.

Even you 'holy' people out there on the front row. Sanctimonious piety will not help you now.

You provoke someone just to see how they will react. And then you poke at them just enough to keep them stirred up.

Well, today has been one of those days.

The 64 dollar question for today is:
How creative can you be in helping someone come up with ideas to keep their "holiday guest" busy, whom they really do not want to spend time with, but whom they are COMPELLED by circumstance to have to entertain or be considered a 'Scrooge'?

Or, at least, more of a Scrooge than you and they already unashamedly are.

First, you check the community calendar. . .of every single community within a days' driving distance.

And a few that are outside that limit.

And you pray that there is ANYTHING that you can take in that will fill the time that you are compelled to spend with someone with whom you have absolutely nothing in common. There is only so much smiling and nodding you can do without your lips sticking to your dry teeth and your neck going out of joint.

But worse yet, you plan ways to "ditch" them and not make it seem totally and transparently obvious to even the most dull witted kindergartner.

Does the police station still take in strays? Will anyone notice if you come home WITHOUT them? If you prop up the pillows in the bed just right, will everyone else assume they are STILL napping?

Then, because you are so full of it, flush with the plans you have in mind, you look for ways to twist the knife in online forums, chat rooms and blogs. Simply because shooting holes in the overinflated egos of people who are the 'deciders' of public policy is dang good fun. KA-POW!!

Finally, exhaustion sets in and the fun and games must come to an end.

There are no more pins left to burst the bubbles of insanity carried aloft by other people's expectations. And, frankly, you have no more strength left to pop the bubbles anyway. Whew!

You lull yourself to sleep thinking about how an allegedly mature adult can allow themselves to run so thoroughly amok and still sleep well at night. . . the answer for all of those who are just now catching up is simple.

With a SMILE.