|Marsha daydreamed about what she'd get in the gift exchange. Would it be lint, or that box of mouse traps she'd always wanted?|
Can you believe Christmas is only eleven days away? I can because I looked at the calendar and counted very carefully, using only my pointer finger and simple math. But, besides printed numbers, the other thing that tipped me off to the upcoming holiday was the Christmas party Husband and I attended last Friday.
"They let you out?" You say.
"They did," says I.
Husband found a clean shirt. I grabbed a coat that buttoned. And we headed out for an evening of drinks, tiny cupcakes, and me gesticulating wildly at other adults. Honestly, I think people loved it. Who isn't positively smitten by someone who's obviously been in captivity for the last few months and just wants to show others how she matched her tights to her flats?
"And then I sold that stock for a million dollars. But you say you hand-picked this hosiery to go with your Payless footwear? Fascinating."
"Now, tell me more about this "using a tank top as a bra" theory you've been working on."
Up until the gift exchange, I filled the time with shuffling my feet and regaling the crowd with stories of my children. (I've already been booked for next year's get-together.) Eventually, the time came to grab our drinks, gather round the tree, and trade, as Husband called it, "One giant piece of crap for a smaller one."
The rules were simple. Wrap and bring something worth, roughly, ten dollars, that you already had around the house. So, after I gladly threw my contribution of bottle stoppers into the pile, I eagerly grabbed another gift.
The anticipation of opening a White Elephant gift is strange. On one hand, you know it'll be something worth ten dollars, used, and probably smells like an un-bathed ferret. On the other, you hold out hope it's a new coat from J Crew.
As I slowly opened the box, visions of how I'd look in my new coat danced in the mind's eye. I truly do the double breasted style justice. But then I saw hair. And, instead of imagining myself walking down the street, shouting, "Yes, it's lined by hand. Thanks for asking," I'd turned into Brad Pitt, screaming...
"What's in the box?"
A mannequin head. That's what.
This prize was eclipsed only by Husband proudly procuring some decorative rocks and a hat with Seagulls on it. This sounds horrible until you realize we've got the twin's birthdays covered for the next few years, something I mentioned while I explained to the mannequin head where she was going, on the ride home.
So, that was that.
And now, a gift for you that doesn't smell!
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Four Plus an Angel and Toulouse and Tonic.
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a Rafflecopter giveaway Until Next Time, Readers!