“I like giving presents.” Nearly noon on Christmas morning, and we still hadn’t cleared the space below the tree. A few grumbles had been heard about the excess. But no one had complained about a bad present.
“Look, there’re no iPads or computers, no wide screen TV, no electronic stuff at all.” I was conveniently ignoring the sound bar lying at the bottom of the pile, back against the wall. which would go to Shaine. At least I didn’t get her the Karaoke machine I thought would be perfect for my middle child. She loves music, loves to be a center of attention, loves to organize things, and would revel in having her own sing along contraption, despite having only a glancing ability to carry a tune. Though I suppose, that’s the whole point: to enable someone who can’t sing to believe they can.
Cody reached around and pulled up another package. Sitting closest to the tree, he had primary responsibility for handing out the goodies. He chose a small one, for me from Shaine.
Cheryl has a history of Christmas frugality. She generally goes shopping a few days after the holiday, snapping up at 50% or more reduction the unsung infrastructure which keeps the holiday moving – cards, ribbons, seasonal wrapping paper, ornaments. Several decades ago, she saw a bunch of Christmas themed fabric, going for a song. The next fall, she pulled out her mother’s old sewing machine, and created a number of various sized bags. The idea is, you put your present into it, tie it up with some ribbon left over from a previous year, stick a little doo-dad on it with the recipient’s name (again, saved from year to year), and you have a very easy way to give a gift without creating undo mess. Or dealing with scissors, tape, or really, any wrapping at all – which I hate.
We’re seeing more and more of this. My sister, with no kids of her own, lavishes our family with a lot of presents. This year, she sent them all in one box per person, wrapped in old brown shopping bags, with a note outside, “make sure to find all 7 (or 3 or 5) gifts inside.”
So Cody hands me a small bag, really, something the size of a CD or maybe a necklace case. Inside, I find a lot of paper, and a black leather case, a little larger than a credit card. Slots to hold 4 or five items.
I pretty much hate wallets – they just take up too much room. And now, in the second decade of the twenty-first century, I don’t need much cash. A twenty dollar bill, folded over twice, sometimes lasts me a whole month.
I’ve taken to putting a credit card, my license, my AAA card, and the $20 into a little holder. I started doing this for bike rides. Cyclists are notorious weight and space weenies – anything light and small is highly valued. Usually, a zip lock bag holds a cell phone, some bills, and an ID and $ card in one of those back pockets we have in our sleek form fitting jerseys. But when I got a passport a few years ago, I purchased a $25 “Passport Card” to serve as a super ID, good for getting through TSA at airports, and across the border into Canada. It came with a foil sleeve, supposedly to protect the sensitive electronics embedded within. Slip in a credit card and a $20, and it was my wallet for all activities except driving.
But still, there was that wallet thing. It takes up space, no matter where you put it. Back pocket of the pants – that’s a real lump to haul around. I no longer wear sport or suit coats to work; I’ve taken to going around in a white coat, and a wallet weighs down one side giving me a most unattractive slouch. So when Washington State sent me another sleeve with my last license, I found I now had two slim wallets, suitable for slipping into a shirt or front pants pocket, giving me a much sleeker look when I went out.
But the state sleeve was less sturdy, and started to fray and shred. One road trip, I slipped the driving wallet stuff into the paper sleeve Days Inn gave me to house my room “key”. That was even flimsier, and had a corporate logo on it, to boot.
Shaine must have noticed all this. “That was the smallest wallet I could find,” she said as I hauled it out of the reusable Christmas bag. I shouted with recognition and glee – “This is JUST what I need – I didn’t even know I wanted it. Thanks!” I was genuinely happy. Shaine knew she’d nailed it with this gift.
(To be cont’d)