Decorating: done (yes, all my bookshelves are this pretentious)
There are but three shopping days left until Christmas, dear reader(s). You’re probably sitting back smugly upon reading that fact, thinking ‘Well those are three more days than I need, because I am very organised and superior and all my gifts are bought and wrapped elegantly and sitting under my real Christmas tree which is tastefully decorated with charming and whimsical ornaments and soft white twinkling lights. All there is for me to do is sit back and peruse my Christmas menu, most of which I have already prepared and which is macerating, marinating, steeping, gelling and otherwise improving itself in my walk-in pantry and my huge fridge.’
Well bully for you, reader. Things ain’t looking so pretty around here. A few minutes ago, in a new low of parenting, I procured a Christmas stocking for my child from a printer toner shop. For free. Basically, I begged it from the window display.
I was walking past, having visited all the fancy gift shops in the area in search of a nice Christmas stocking for May Blossom that wasn’t made of sequinned yellow satin (the best the $2 shop could offer), and in the hilariously lame window display was a rather nice stocking.
The owner was having a quiet day, because really, toner doesn’t exactly shriek with holiday good cheer. When I asked if I could buy part of his Christmas display, which otherwise consisted of scrunched up red and green tissue paper bursting festively forth out of Canon and Minolta boxes, he looked a bit bemused, then told me I could have it for free. I nearly wept with the Yuletide charm of the whole situation. I felt like I was in a heartwarming subplot from Love Actually. A dull subplot, sure, and one that ended up on the cutting room floor, but it was all very Richard Curtis, trust me.
Beyond the stocking begging, there was further Christmas cheer to be had this morning when Other Jess and I constructed gingerbread houses from a kit and decorated them with the assistance of two toddlers who had been sucking on red icing pens. They were somewhat exuberant.
Against all odds, no one was seriously burned with the toffee you have to make to glue all the gingerbread masonry together, and we managed to call the lollies ‘decorations’ for long enough to get a few of them onto the houses before the small people twigged and started stuffing freckles and jubes into their faces. In a confectionary-based analogy to our real houses, Other Jess’s gingerbread house was very neat and tidy and colour co-ordinated.
Mine looked like it had been decorated by a Drambuie-soaked chimpanzee, as does my home.
Bring on Christmas. I’m ready, waiting in a dark alley with a baseball bat.
You are wonderful. I am def going to try and catch up with you and other Jess in the new year. Until then, wrap, decorate, bake, eat, love, drink and be successfully merry. Xoxo
Dear May Blossom…
I fear that you are a neglected child. Mad Mummy has gone over the top here… refusing to let you eat sugar! That could be construed as abuse.
I understand that you went to the Geographical Names Board to try and change your name… good try, but you need to do a bit more research on that.
Things are a lot less pretty around here! I’m the only member of your extended family (with the possible exception of your father) who is congenitally incapable of thinking of presents to buy (much less stockings, etc) so my close rels get given lottery tickets from which no-one ever wins more than $6. I think this must be written into the rules of NSW State Lotteries, as I’ve been doing this for the last 15 years for an average of 15 rels per year, and that’s the maximum anyone has ever won from one of my presents.
Happy Christmas Jess, and H, and May Blossom, and both your parents, and Senior Brother and Junior Brother and Wonderful Grandma, etc.
You have chimpanzees with exotic tastes. This is not to be encouraged.
Faithfully Yours,
Concerned, Mosman
HAHAHAHA very very good! I get so much excitement put of your posts, really.