November
2008 | By Piper
Underwood
 Every
year starting
in about
October, I
feel this
overwhelming
sense of
dread over
the impending
holidays, the
imminent onslaught
of “stuff”,
the
million
little
pieces
destined
to
co-mingle.
Step
one:
Purge.
This
year my
anxiety began
in September.
I vow
to give
gifts imbued
with meaning.
I dread
this time
of year.
Usually dread
and uncertainty
go hand
in hand,
but not
in this
case: I
am certain
my anxiety
stems from
the expectation
of arriving
at Christmas
with perfectly
wrapped gifts,
perfectly coifed
hair and
dry armpits.
I’m
sorry,
but
this
is
just
unrealistic.
I
make a
head count
of potential
recipients. It
comes to
30. I
panic. I
make lists.
I lose
lists. Step
two: Edit.
Thankfully,
on my
side of
the family,
adults now
draw names
for gifts.
I scratch
3 people
off my
list. (That
feels good.)
On my
husband’s
side,
we
have
forgone
giving
gifts
to
the
adults
altogether,
with
the
exception
of
Edna,
who
pushes
some
chocolate
covered
nuts
on
me,
and
then
eagerly
awaits
reciprocation.
I
scarf
them
down
guiltily.
7
more
people
gone;
and
I
guarantee
you
with
the
exception
of
Edna,
all
seven
are
relieved.
I’m
down
to
20.
In
addition to
shrinking the
number of
recipients, I
start thinking
about my
gifts earlier
in the
season. As
I sit
typing this,
it is
only September
28th, and
already my
skin is
showing manifestations
of my
internal stress.
Step three:
Plan ahead.
I
figure out
early what
I want
to give
my girlfriends
when I
see a
neighbor creating
ceramic pots
in her
garden. For
each friend,
my neighbor
creates 4
lovely, personalized
ceramic vases.
Girlfriends,
check!
Only
17 more
to go!
In
my search
for the
perfect gift,
I am
reminded of
a friend
who gave
coupons to
her 13
nieces and
nephews on
their special
days. She
was a
teacher which
makes her
both crafty
and frugal.
The coupons
are redeemable
for everything
from “Movie
Nights” to “A
Day
at
the
Beach.” I
think
of
what
kind
of
coupon
I
might
make
for
my
husband: “This
coupon
is
good
for...” Maybe
coupons
are
more
suitable
for
children.
In
this case,
less really
is more.
So,
if you
are reading
this, and
you are
thinking about
giving my
children something
with a
million little
pieces, please
don’t.
Take
them
to
see
The
Grinch down
at
the
Old
Globe
instead.
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