Freshening

I am finding myself in a bit of an ethical quandary. Helen (via her school) made a loving present for Hubs for Father's Day. It involved a drawing of a car, some other stuff, and the store-bought weenie at the present's heart: a car air freshener. We opened the gift last night since Hubs won't be here on the actual day (instead he'll be eating chocolates and cheese in Switzerland, boo-hoo for him) (it's a work trip) ("work" trip). She was so excited to give it to him. And she's so excited to display it--in, oddly, the car I usually drive. And--how shall I put this?--the scent of the air freshener makes me feel like I am getting a nasal root canal. Silas walked around the house with it last night before putting it in the car, and this morning the house still REEKED of the stuff. Not to mention the tide of scent washing into the laundry room from the garage.

"Mmm, it smells so nice!" Helen cried happily this morning, as we pushed our way against the scent into the car. "Don't you like it, Mom? What's your favorite smell?"

"I like...kind of um, natural smells."

"Like banana bread? I don't like banana bread, but I like how it smells!"

"Yes. Banana bread smells wonderful."

So right now I'm trying to figure out the right combination of lie and truth that will spare her feelings but get rid of the damn thing. My personal first choice is "Shoot, honey! I had the window open and it just blew right out onto the highway!" However, for various reasons of tactfulness and sentimentality (it's Hubs' father's day present), I'm leaning more toward needing to "preserve" it. By keeping it wrapped in three sealed bags in the trunk of the car with a blanket wrapped around that and maybe a box over it. After all, the smell of the thing is still nice and strong--if we parcel it out, it should last forever. Just like Helen's love for her dad. Sighhhh.

Happy Friday!

Seasoning

Just in case I might have been worried, back in October, about getting into the Christmassy mood too soon, what with the 12 inches of snow and all, and then being sort of past the whole Christmas thing come mid-December, when chances were that the weather would be 60 degrees and dry...well, no more need to worry. Since the snow is still here, or was here and is here again, or is here and is coming tomorrow also and also the day after that...or something. We're in the Season. White on white, and cold, mama.

Yesterday we went up and cut a tree from Golden Gate State Park (by permit!), and by "we" I mean Hubs, Silas, and Sister-in-Law + Nephew, because Helen had a cough and I decided to prudently stay home with her. And also get some laundry done, and clean the house, and um, oh yeah, avoid driving sixty miles in a winter storm warning. I love being out in the snow and cold, but not if I'm in a vehicle. "Call when you get there!" I said cheerily, and put on the water for another pot of coffee. "Drive safe!"

It's a fine tree, a fir, 11 feet and 10 inches tall, so it fit in our living room with two inches to spare. It was also reported to be a fine hike, if we use Ernest Shackleton's definition of fine. That is, it was long, cold, windy, snowy, and cold, and while I actually think that would have been kind of fun, doing it with kids, especially "I hate hikes" Helen, would have started out notfun and proceeded straight to Death March.

The good news about staying home was that I managed to keep so busy that I didn't think once about the purchasing part of Christmas. Which means that we're still on square one: giftfail. Which means the chances of me being one of those poor souls running out to the Quickie Mart at 10 o'clock on December 24 just bumped a little higher.

So: happy holidays!

Holiday shopping

Last night, as I lay awake staring at the ceiling, I thought about gifts, and specifically how many of them we haven't bought yet, and how it's practically Christmas already and how come we do this every year even though waaay back in October I had the wonderful idea of dividing the fall into chunks and using each chunk to buy presents for groups of people--October was going to be Aunts and Uncle month, November was going to be Parents and Siblings month, and December would be Getting the Last Minute Gifts Especially for Kids month.

Well, yeah. That didn't work. We're still stuck on those Aunts and Uncle (totally unrelated: what if anything do you recommend as a gift for a person who is a) diabetic; b) doesn't cook or like healthy food, such as fruit; c) lives alone anyway; d) has a serious too-much-stuff problem; e) doesn't like bath-y self-pampering products? Because I'm stumped, again).

The main problem here is that I am just not a gift-y person. I think it's a personality flaw. I listen with awe and a sort of wistful envy as organized and creative gift-givers talk about what they're giving to everyone from their irritating father-in-law to their childrens' teachers, and I nod my head and think, Yes! What a wonderful idea! And then I get to Target and try to emulate it, and I walk up and down the aisles, looking at all the piles of gleaming stuff. At first I think I'm going to have success--slippers! I'll get everyone slippers this year! and what a great picture frame! And those piles of designer throws are so tempting!

But then the doubts start worming their way in. Does Dad even need slippers? If he doesn't have them, is that because he wishes someone would get him some, or because he isn't the kind of guy who wears slippers? And this soft fake-fur lining is nice, but is it $29-more-than-other-kinds nice? And isn't that the stuff that repels water in a weird way, so that if you put them on after the shower your feet stay wet for a long time? While we're at it, is $49 for a picture frame really worth it, plus isn't it kind of an expensive crap shoot to try to buy decorative items for another person? Finally, those throws look nice, but everyone knows they're too small and too thin to be anything but decorative clutter, and here we are, back at the "never buy decor" dictum again...and thirty minutes later I'm heading out to the car empty-handed except for a sinking feeling of defeat.

Not that there's anything wrong with it, but...

has anyone ever worked at an office with a male boss and his wife where the wife was not in charge of office parties and birthdays and goodbye gifts?

It's like a semi-official expectation. It's also one of about 1 million reasons why I could never work for my husband: I lack the skills. (Luckily for his employees, and me, he possesses a rare y-sorted gift-giving gene.)

I can't say this observation makes me mad, exactly. It's not like End of Feminism. And all (two of) the wives I've known in this situation genuinely seem to enjoy the parties, decorations, being thoughtful, et cetera. But in both cases it did sometimes seem like she was enabling her husband's complete lack of interest in/ concern for his employees...or else just participating in the stereotype that the woman is the one who is caring and thoughtful, and the man is the One Who Gets Shit Done, and perpetuating the further and much more annoying cultural belief that these two things have to be separate.

Or maybe I'm just griping because I myself am so EVERLOVING POOR at the gift thing, and I'm jealous.