Note: As December broke across the land, I made a mild promise to myself that I wouldn’t unleash any of the past Christmas posts in my archives. After all, some of you delightful folks have been with me for years and you’re perhaps a bit weary of the yuletide repetition. Then, earlier this evening, I had a conversation with the lovely Genevieve at “Neuroses Undefined”, and I realized that the influx and outflux at Bonnywood is so constant that many of the newer guest have not yet been worn down by the holiday rinsing and repeating.
Besides, I’m rather fond of these festive posts. And 2020 has been a crazy-ass ride, upending the foundations of what we once knew. We need comfort and solace. Why not revisit a few of my favorite things? (Cue “The Sound of Music” original cast recording, brown paper blog posts tied up with strings.) And so, here we go…
10 Things I Just Realized While Wrapping Christmas Presents
1. It will destroy your soul.
Granted, there was a time and place when I greatly enjoyed swaddling carefully-selected gifts in whimsically-printed paper. I would spend hours ensuring that each box o’ joy was so meticulously enshrined in festive wrapping that angels would descend from Heaven and sing praises about the craftsmanship. That is no longer the case. Now I just want the dang things done and shoved under the tree as quickly as possible.
2. The discreet use of tape is highly overrated.
I used to be an acolyte of the school which believed that if you could see the Scotch tape lovingly applied to yuletide packages, then you just didn’t care enough. The tape should be placed so precisely that the gift recipient would swear that artisans of great fame were responsible for the finished product. But I dropped out of that school. Now the tape is used as a binding tool, physically forcing the wrapping paper to do what I want it to do, even if it means we end up with weird wads of paper mashed into the ends of the package.
3. I can no longer cut in a straight line.
Another skill that has eroded over time is the ability to slice off the required bits of wrapping paper at perfect 90-degree angles from the baseline, thus ensuring that the next person to use the tube of paper has a clean and geometrically-pleasing starting point. My snipping with the scissors starts out swimmingly for the first few inches, but then things go terribly awry and I end up with a ragged edge that looks like the San Andreas Fault. My partner is not amused, and there are heated discussions.
4. I apparently had a fetish concerning the purchasing of “after-Christmas” discount wrapping paper at some point.
We have tons of this stuff. There are countless bins of paper that I don’t even remember buying, shoved into random corners of the attic. I think it’s fair to say that I won’t need to purchase more wrapping paper until 2027. And some of the patterns I picked out? I have no idea what inspired me to purchase the New Kids on the Block “Figgy Pudding Tribute” roll of paper. Maybe I had bronchitis.
5. The TO and FROM areas on gift tags are entirely too small.
Dear low-paid people who make these tags: Not everybody in America is named “Ann” or “Biff”. Expand, please. And while you’re at it, quit making those glossy tags where the ink smears and it looks like I have some motor-skill issues.
6. I have lost interest in bows.
These things just irritate me now. Visiting the past again, I actually used to make bows, using rolls of ribbon and this plastic thing with spokes. After several hours of threading and twisting and copious epithets, I would suddenly and magically be the proud owner of several intricate displays of glossy art, treasures that would send Patti LaBelle running to the nearest hair salon.
I don’t do that anymore. In fact, I don’t do bows at all. Just flat packages, because the bows are guaranteed to get crushed when you cram all those presents in the back of the car and drive 20 hours to the house of the relative who is hosting this year’s awkward, wincing marathon of a gift-exchange extravaganza. Nobody likes smashed gift-toppings. Save yourself the pain.
7. There’s no shame in random gaps in the wrapping.
So the square of paper that you just cut out is apparently FUBAR and doesn’t adequately hide the entire thingy you are trying to cover? No worries. Just make sure that critical words on the packaging are nicely obscured, and you’re good to go. It’s not like anybody is actually going to care, what with the entire planet now being afflicted with attention-deficit disorders of one kind or another. They’re just going to rip the thing open, squeal with fake Southern Belle delight, and then toss the thing aside and never look at it again. At least you didn’t waste any time putting a bow on it.
8. I made the mistake of actually sitting on the floor while doing the wrapping.
This would not have been a problem in my more limber years. But as we all know, things and bodies don’t work quite the way they used to function. Once I was in the lower altitudes, I was pretty much staying there unless a fire broke out in the house. So there I am, wallowing around on the floor, grunting and trying to reach for the next present that needed to be wrapped, only to discover that I had stupidly placed it way on the other side of the room. (Related Side Note: How is it that the scissors that you just used disappear the instant that you set them down and you have to search for five minutes every time you need them?)
And when I needed a fresh beverage? It quickly became clear that I had made a serious error in assuming a compromising position. Try convincing Scotch the Cat to go get Daddy another beer. The success rate with that endeavor often leads to disappointment, hurt feelings on both sides, and a parched status bordering on hospitalization. (That ungrateful little hairball-launcher better shape up or there’s going to be a harsh performance review in his future.)
9. Some companies maliciously create products that are difficult to wrap.
Why can’t they just put the item in a standard box and be done with it? Doesn’t that make more sense for everybody? But noooo, these evil manufacturers insist on the most jacked-up packaging they can design, with odd angles and things that stick out and sharp pointy bits that will rip the wrapping paper to shreds. I think these companies should have to pay hefty government fines until they knock it off and act right.
Yes, I know that I could just put the unruly gift into a wrap-technician-pleasing box and go from there. But it’s a known household fact that you can never find a box when you need one. Two days ago, of course, there had been hundreds of empty boxes all over the house, tossed in piles by irresponsible people who didn’t care. This led to me bellowing “who the hell left these boxes EVERYWHERE!”, followed by a very quiet evening meal where the perpetrators did not care to speak to me after I made them haul the boxes to the trash. Clearly, I wasn’t planning ahead.
And I could also take advantage of those “holiday” gift bags, with their symbols of high-cholesterol Santas and fornicating reindeer. But using a gift bag just seems like a cop-out to me. The bags might as well come printed with a disclaimer stating “It’s two in the morning, I’m tired of wrapping, so I’m just going to throw your over-priced Pier 1 ornament into this bag and cram some tissue on top of it. I still love you, though. Kiss, kiss.”
Maybe it’s that tissue paper that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I can never get that crinkly mess to look right. Some folks are a wiz at it, sculpting delicate snow angels and an origami Baby Jesus out of the stuff. My tissue paper looks like I ran over it in the driveway and then shoveled it into a designer bag featuring dancing chipmunks and special dots that, if you scratch and sniff, smell just like fruitcake.
10. Despite all of the above, I actually do like to wrap Christmas presents.
I just have to force myself to set aside a big chunk of hours and pick a room where I can seal myself off from the rest of the house and all those prying eyes. (“Yes, you were trying to peek, now get out of here you wretched little urchin.”) I also have to make sure I have everything I need so I don’t wander out of the wrapping chamber and get distracted by things like a Will & Grace rerun or a couch that is begging me to sit on it for a while so it can feel loved again.
Oh, and at some point I must play the entire “Christmas Portrait” album by The Carpenters. It’s not the holidays without it, and it takes me back to those innocent, less-bitter, child-eyed times when I really did care about not being able to see the tape on the packages as I wrapped up the tiny, dime-store goodies I had carefully picked out for my family after I saved my allowance for months and months.
And that Carpenters strategy worked just fine this evening. I managed to get twenty gifts prepped and ready to go, an admirable amount if I do say. But now I have to get up off this floor, and that’s going to take a while. Thankfully, I was able to convince Scotch (who had heard the rumors about his next performance review) to bring me my laptop so I could blog about my experiences while I build up the strength to get back on my feet.
Cheers.
Previously published, many times. Some changes have been made as I’m really trying to control my tendency to create run-on sentences but something tells me this will be a curse that I have to live with forevermore and I will just have to be a brave little toaster and accept the fact that I often don’t use periods when a period is something that the reader is really aching for because they are out of mental breath and they don’t remember what I said at the beginning of this sentence because it has gone on for two days now and they just want to be released from this run-on hell.
Fair disclaimer: This next paragraph is two years old, but the song and the sentiment remain the same…
Poignant P.S. to those who have been following the story: Scotch the Cat came back home today, in a little wooden box, accompanied by one of those clever paw-print medallions that make you cry and smile at the same time. He will be joining his past siblings on the Tribute Shelf, and I’m sure he would think it fine, indeed, if you would take a moment to love on your fur babies tonight with a little extra gumption…
Categories: Humor
Bonnywood Manor 
I will admit to being that person that uses gift bags. The turmoil of not having the latest and greatest Christmas print on the wrapping paper has left many scars. And the recriminations of it’s not pretty enough or it’s the wrong colour have left scars. Now it’s a bag and a gift, and who cares for crepe paper? That stuff is Satan’s handiwork!
Ah Christmas. The time we love and loathe in equal measure
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Despite my musings above, I’m all about the gift bags now. From time to time I’ll make a half-ass effort to fluff the tissue paper in an artful manner, but mostly I just shove it in there and call it good. Luckily, my side of the family has long since given up on doing gifts for the adults (at least when I’m around, who knows what they do when unsupervised) so the pain is lessened. But Partner’s side of the family? They’re all about the hundreds of presents. So I continue to half-ass fluff…
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I love wrapping presents, but then, I usually only give out nickels for Christmas, so the box is small & doesn’t take much effort (my friends and family always make a big deal of shaking the box first, but they know what’s in there).
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I am in awe of your generosity, Pere Noel. Brings a tear to my eye, it does… 😉
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Aye.
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Christmas gifts preparation = Tick ‘This is a Gift’ box on Amazon checkout.
Job done.
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I find myself wandering into that magical realm more and more often…
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Yes! 6, 7 & 9!
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Right? There are so many more important things to worry about in this world… 😉
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i love this and can so identify
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I mean, I’d love to still be the starry-eyed child of yore, with my careful creases and magical tape, but who has time for that when your email inbox is full? 😉
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I identify completely with 6 and 8.
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The one constant about life is that priorities change as we meander from Point A to Point B… 😉
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It’s like you’re my evil twin. I’ve had these exact thoughts for the past 3 years. Me. The woman who has enough half price wrapping paper to reach from Maine to Texas, the woman who spent hours fashioning the perfectly matched fabric ribboned bows, the woman who had themed gift presentations every season. Now? I dread the mere thought of wrapping a gift and would rather cancel Christmas than get on the floor with a roll of tape. I say we just drink Appletinis till New Years. You in?
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I am ALL in. To be fair, the many years I spent concocting sublime gifting presentations were deeply and spiritually rewarding (and of COURSE I had yearly themes, why would one not?), but now that I look back, it’s obvious that I had some focus issues. I still want everyone to be happy and satisfied, natch, but there’s an express lane to that satisfaction. And I’m going to take it whenever I can…
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You made me smile, you made laugh out loud and you made me shake my head: “Yep, I’ve done that!”. And you made me cry as I remember my fur-babies lovingly placed on their Tribute Shelf.
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Well, I don’t relish making anybody cry, and I considered taking out the Scotch reference, but it wouldn’t have been right. The fur babies are with us, always…
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Wonderful, Brian!! Pretty is actually the “wrapper” in our home year after year.
She has not only boycotted bows but also boxes. Gift bags for her!!
Merry Ho Ho!!
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Partner has been the official wrapper for the last several years, as he has much more patience with such things. In those rare moments when I feel a tad guilty and offer to help, he gives me a look that makes it quite clear that I’d best take my business elsewhere. I run as fast as I can… 😉
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Fabulous observations as usual. Especially about getting up off the floor… 🥴
May you have happy holidays though, & stay safe 🌈 G
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Happy holidays to you as well. We’ll get through this. But I’m still annoyed that my knees don’t love me as much as they used to… 😉
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Ugh! Wrapping gifts… the bane of every Christmas Eve for 30+ years. We can’t put anything under the tree until Christmas Eve cuz Ben will just open it.
Thankfully no one cares about the masking/duct and/or packing tape used to wrap the gifts. I’m seriously considering reusing festive gift bags from birthdays, and Christmases past. We have a cold tile floor and I’m a “crippled old lady” my daughters tell me so, all the time.
It IS fun to see people unwrapping their gifts though. And what is a Christmas Tree without all the beautiful packages underneath??
So many furbabies… 😢
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You hit on the one thing that makes me the most sad about my loss of interest in precision-packaging: All those glittery, enticing presents under the tree. The one thing that has survived my questionable transition from childhood to adulthood is the beauty of a glittering tree with lots of presents. Even though Partner does most of the wrapping now, I still love to sit and stare at the twinkling lights and all the goodies underneath. I can do it for hours, and it takes me back…
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I am not much of a seasonal gift-giving person. Did I just say that? Did a bolt of lightning come out of the sky? Nope. Still here.
Actually, I’ll qualify the foregoing. We like to get together with family and friends (not necessarily at winter break) so the gift is usually travel, either us to them or them to us. Cuts out the bows and sitting on the floor. 😉
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I’m all with you on this. Despite my cherished memories of past yuletides, with the excited ripping-open of treasures under the tree, it’s the presence of loved ones that matter more than the presents. I focus on that now…
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I have a gift for avoiding gift-wrapping. How do I get away with it, you ask? Simple — I don’t give anyone any gifts.
P.S. Jjust kidding — actually, I leave it all up to Santa, and what he forgets to bring ain’t my problem.
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For the most part, I leave it up to Santa as well, despite his fluctuating reviews on Yelp. I mean, I did my part for years, often to an excessive degree, so why not let someone else deal with the fallout. It’s not my fault you didn’t get what you wanted. Maybe you should clean up your act for next year…
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My strategy has long been to put on a lost quizzical look, turn towards my sweet understanding wife who will snort, whip the paper, tape, bows and ribbons and implements of construction and- literally- she takes the problem out of my ‘hapless’ hands. Merry Christmas, thats a wrap. This policy means I only have to wrap her one perfect(?) present, keep the egg nogs a’coming and my job is done.
And our Golden Boy don’t need his can of Christmas Turkey chunks in Gravy wrapped, that just slows down the time from unveiling to consumption. He has no patience for that; I still have the scars on my fingers from last year to prove it.
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Would it be untoward of me to suggest that your sweet wife is perhaps a saint? Not judging, of course, I would never do that on days that don’t end in “y”. But I suspect that you might be a bit of a handful. As am I, based on the pitying looks that Partner gives me when it comes to anything important that needs to be done. We all have our special skills, but they aren’t always apparent.
Wait, Christmas Turkey chunks in Gravy? This appeals to me immensely. How hard do I have to wag my tail to get me some of that?
Perhaps I’ve overshared. It wouldn’t be the first time….
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Hey, I can play dumb with the best of ’em then again ,the wife says it ain’t no stretch. Turkey Chunks in Gravy seems to be on special for a few weeks after Thanksgiving. Maybe there’s a time limit to feline treats in a can?
Oversharing??????? Tell me more…
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Oh-not this- I think I bonded with you over our love of felines and our tape handicap years ago now. It calls for a poem. But that’s going to have to wait until I tick off my to-dos today, whyvg now increased by one. But you’re worth it.
Thank you for all your support always, all year, and you know, (twists toe in sand, holds grasped hands under chin, smiles, blushes and then punches you in the arm schoolyard style) well, you know.❤️
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Yes, we’ve definitely had some crazy wonderful conversations over the years, little nuggets nestled among the pages of both of blogs. And it always gives me a special zing when I get the email notification that you’ve commented, as I know I’m going to greatly enjoy your words…
As for your second paragraph, those are my sentiments exactly…
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Gluing gifts together for the
Loves of our lives
Out of obligation comes
What’s exposed – borne from those
Deep cracks. We open wide, wider than a canyon
Engulfing everything that walks by
It never saw us there
A gaping hole ready
To swallow
Them whole.
Didn’t they understand
Not looking around
Would take them
To a watery grave?
There’s not enough tape
To repair our openings
The spaces in the paper
Leave clues of what we are
We are gifts
All of us
Flaws and all
Ready to find a mason
To build a brick wall
Prevention for the disease
Passed along when we
Hand out our presents
To the unknowing
Few.
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As I just mentioned on your blog post where you shared this, I am once again amazed with how creative and emotional and personal your poetry is. I immediately started sharing your post on social media, so you may or may not (you know how people are) get a few strangers dropping by your blog. You’re the best, darlin’.
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Me: No you’re the best.
You: No you are.
Me: No you.
Ad infinitum.
I know you secretly support my blog.
👍 on this side of the Grand Canyon.
You may get some weird cancer people popping by your sites, too.
Hey, we’re not making money from our blogs. They’re labors of loved or something like that.
Before diving into my book there’s actually a need to expand my readership to a more board based base, so I’m divesting into a little more poetry a little less cancer but it’s all the same really.
I still love your personal posts most of all. I remember reading Bonnywood that first Christmas five years ago now. I thought you were completely bonkers but Scotch did it for me. Simon was still a little brat – only 2 years old. The imagined lives of the denizens of Bonnywood cheered me up during a time when it was needed as much as chemotherapies and hormone suppressants.
I really wish Covid was a distant memory – but doesn’t everyone? All of the metastatic community has one thing aching at us that remains unsaid – “I hope I make it past this lockdown.” And had the recent lockdown not kept me holed up at the ranch 99% of the time, me n’ Simon would’ve saddled up in an RV and driven cross the US with a long-ish stop in Texas. My friends in Austin, Houston, Dallas and places off 290 and I-10 and 45. Why do we say 45 and I-10 not 10 and 45 or I-10 and I-45? Bless our hearts. Then through New Orleans, to Gainesville, Tampa to beat the crap out of my brother, fort la-de-dah to visit my moms grave, visit friends and whatever family doesn’t think I’ve not got cancer due to said brother deserving of a roundhouse kick to the head, then up through Jacksonville, Atlanta, Gainesville GA, DC, PA, NY, over to TN, then drive amongst the corn filled plaines until I reach the Tetons sprinkle a little of dad on them there big Teton mountains, then to Washington state. Maybe go up to Vancouver and Victoria then home stopping to see Yellowstone, too. After that it’s a similar trip around the UK. With Craig if he’s missed me. Theres an oncologist in every town, I can do my treatments anywhere. After those are accomplished and I hug all of my virtual yet loving and supportive friends – the northern lights. That’s it. If it all goes according to plan, the house here will have its share of visitors as my friends see me in person, recognize I’m not a serial killer at least as far as they’re concerned, and the guest rooms will need revolving doors. As you know, you’re one whose open invite doesn’t close at what we lovingly call La Villa Strangiato (Rush, Hemispheres – 1979?) and either enjoy the 50 trail heads within 10 radius miles of the house or Tahoe a 45 minute drive away. Or just hang out like most everyone thus far has who exclaims as they get in their car or mine to the airport, “I don’t want to leave! Your house is so peaceful and the bed is so comfortable I haven’t ever slept better!”
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You just make me squeal, you really do. In a good way, of course. The description of your planned and possible dual road trips sounds delicious. It also sounds like one of those mesmerizing and exquisite independent movies (the good kind, not the odd crap) wherein the heroine experiences many quiet moments of reflection and redemption and loud moments of joy and satisfying anarchy. I’m tempted to invite myself along, but this is your journey and you shouldn’t be dragging along baggage that might be very entertaining initially but will soon prove annoying.
But rest assured, should you embark, that there will be a room here at Bonnywood on the Dallas leg of your sojourn, should you choose to pursue such. Our dwelling is modest, and the toilet in the guest bathroom has a mind of its own, but there is a lot of warmth here. And a little bit of bonkers…
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P.S. I just saved this entire thread to my “prompt” file. There’s a terrific story here, and someday I’ll massage it just right…
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Massaging is extra. I just got my middle of the night nihilism style WordPress thanks for your 300 bucks for the whole year right before Christmas and coughed up a hair ball on Craig. Simon followed suit then Craig had a gag reflex of his own. But I digress. You’re absolutely welcome to join for a leg of the trip – I should learn to drive some vehicle bigger than my suv by then. I drive it for comfort it’s actually a Barca lounger on four wheel drive. I wish I had a way to train Simon to walk on a leash but each time I tried he does an army crawl and flattens out pretending to have been run over by an 18 wheeler somewhere around Big Bend. But I am giving you the heads up early enough to prepare thyself and thine partner for a visit. I try explaining patiently to Craig who these so called friends of mine are. But he thinks I’ve got chemo brain induced invisible chums. He’s kind of correct but mainly confused as he’s not got the tenacity to carry on five year friendships with people whose private lives are better known to me than most if not all of my “face” friends. These people belie the word friend. Gimme the juicy stuff people! What’s really going on – and it’s unfair because in all my hundreds of blog posts they have front row seats to my cerebral cortex, right and left lobes, and my brain stem. They speak the truth of the moment. Unfortunately it’s not well enough thought out and they forget I have a photographic memory and worse – I can recall bullshit they’ve come up with 10 or 15 years ago. I’m not the kind to embarrass people or get off on calling anyone on what they care to say or worse not say. But I find the honesty of our friendship surprises me constantly in the absolute rawness of the blue beef mooing on the plates we serve up. Should anyone care to truly read and take time to ask the next question or comment on a real personal level they’ve got themselves a regular conundrum. How do I tell people about my friends who I know more about than them?
And mourning I unfortunately is the worst part of being a terminally ill person with friends who die and I may not find out until someone finds out and notifies the rest of us. I just lost a friend Nancy Siebel, a sister writer, a giving woman who spent her life helping others working out their shit. She died without so much as a hint of feeling sick because it can happen this way with mets. One minute later you’re a late parrot, nailed to the perch of your blog and still looking alive and pining for the fjords.
I want to make the road trip before the fjords call my name. I mourn Nancy and it reminded me of my own condition and I cried on Craig – better than vomiting- and he immediately knew another of my cancer friends had died and it scares the crap out of me. I wish I could still drink but that’s okay. Fuck cancer. It’s a real asshole and I hate it. You know I call the blog https://cancerbus.com/ because I was sick of people saying “you could be hit by a bus.” No no you probably will not. In fact 485,000:1 odds of that vs 5:1 odds of dying from cancer. Pretty likely the 20% of us who push up daisies weren’t concurrently hit by a bus. And the 80% don’t find themselves thinking a lot about treatments, scans and dying all the time either.
Road trip it is. Dallas is a red push pin in the map and I look forward to having a cold can of tecate with lime and chuys creamy jalapeño and chips. I miss Texas. Betcha don’t hear that very often!
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“Bah, humbug” no, maybe that’s too strong
Cause Christmas is my favorite holiday
But this year has been a COVID-19 blur
Don’t think I have the necessary health or energy
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Christmas is my favorite holiday as well, even though I’m not the least bit religious. I enjoy it for all the other reasons, the lights and the magic and the hope. Covid has been a horrible menace, affecting my own family, but that just makes me appreciate this time of year even more. I’ll find the strength somewhere. And I trust that you will as well… 🙂
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I always start the wrapping with great enthusiasm but after a few packets and sellotape on every possible part of my body i screw it.The table is a mess , I can’t find anything , I’m bored and I just want the presents wrapped with a stroke of my nose like Samantha would do😬
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Yep, the first few presents I wrap are stunning in their beauty and composition. But I quickly lose interest, and if you’re not in the first tier of names on my wrapping list, the end product is probably not going to please you in any way… 😉
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😂😂😂😂more or less the same here🤣🎄wrapping and content,by the last presents quality is under the shoes🤣🤣🤣🤣🤷🏻♀️
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I’m ashamed to say that, after years of my gifts looking like a five year old had wrapped them, I have copped out completely and now just shove things in gift bags and stuff tissue paper on top. If I run out of tissue paper, I staple the bag shut. Gift tags? Pshaw. You can just write on the bag with a Sharpie. Big Xs and Os!
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I’ve given up any degree of Martha Stewart flair as well. And by “given up” I mean that Partner does all the wrapping now. I just put up the tree so he has a place to shove everything when he’s done… 😉
I like the staple idea, though. Sounds festive, and I would imagine watching the faces of the surprised recipients is rather enchanting…
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Yep, it’s one step better than overtaping the box and watching someone try to “save the paper” then finally resort to tearing it all apart 😁
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I have spent the weekend ebbing and flowing between pristine wrapping bows and all to some that resemble a five year olds contribution. Currently still trying to straighten my back after the floor sitting- what was I thinking ??? Also love a run on sentence it’s how we really think- stream of neverending consciousness no harm for it to be represented in the written word !
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In those rare instances where I actually wrap gifts, I usually follow the same trajectory. The first finished product is crisp and lovely to behold. By the end of the session, policemen are putting up crime-scene tape around the area.
Run-on sentences are delicious, and you are exactly right: It’s exactly how we think. Of course, sometimes what we reveal is a bit astonishing, but still, it’s the truth, however messy…
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One of the gifts I bought this year was a Lego box — typically a nice, easy to wrap rectangle, right?
Wrong!
It was a trapezoid! No lie!
Also, I completely forgot I was supposed to buy tags this year because I finally trashed the old ones that were 1) glossy and 2) neither perforated nor adhesive, meaning I had to cut them out in order to use them. (That’s not something I ever thought to check – the ease of which the gift tag separates from the sheet. Take heed, my friend.)
I wound up taking old Christmas cards and cutting off tag-appropriate sections. They wound up looking pretty nice, so I might stick with this plan.
I’ll forego wrapping any more trapezoids, however. I have my limits.
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A trapezoid? What is WRONG with the Lego People? (Side note: I actually have a big box of Legos under my bed. Mmm hmm. I still believe in the magic, though a bit less so, with your revelation.)
And the deception continues, with those heinous efforts by gift-tag makers to make their products annoying and non-productive. But I fully support your concept of recycling old Christmas cards. Way back in the day (we’re talking decades, I was a wee urchin), one of my step-moms used to do the same, only she would reuse the very card sent the previous year by the person for whom she was wrapping the current gift. I’m sure a few of them were all “why are you defiling my heart-felt card?”, but most of them found it clever and sweet. And really, it was.
#RecycleTheMagic
#NoTrapezoids
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This is brilliantly written – this is ME. I’ve never been artistic when it comes to wrapping presents, and this statement here is going to keep me laughing all night: “There’s no shame in random gaps in the wrapping.” That’s what I’ve always thought!! The paper’s gonna be torn off anyway, right?
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And therein lies the fundamental paradox of gift-wrapping. Even in my halcyon days when I would spend thirty minutes enshrouding a single gift in shimmery finery, I knew very well that most of the time no one would notice said finery except me, with heathens destroying my artistry in 2.7 seconds. But the world still turns.,,
Side note: “There’s no shame in random gaps in the wrapping” is a phrase that would also apply to the somewhat trampy attire I would sport when I would go bar-hopping in my college years… 😉
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I liked this post mostly because of your run-on sentence. Bravo!
I had to read it aloud to my son who promptly stood and cheered.
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I am overly fond of run-on sentences, I must admit. But I also like folks visiting Bonnywood and finding my little stories that speak to them in some way… 😉
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This is funny, and too true lol
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Thank you for dropping by Bonnywood and taking the time to make a comment!
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“if you could see the Scotch tape lovingly applied to yuletide packages, then you just didn’t care enough.” Heavens forbid! Just put a piece of coal in a stocking and call it good.
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Or perhaps I should just consider my charming presence alone to be the gift that keeps on giving… 😉
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