OCR Text |
Show .frm Call's J by Randy Hanskat Tis the season to be shopping Only 26 shopping days left! That is the cry sure to be heard from area merchants today, with the intention of instilling a kind of shopping paranoia in Christmas gift givers. I was hit by a bit of such paranoia with only 31 days of shopping remaining, so I was forced to Salt Lake and Crossroads Plaza, a mecca of Christmas shopping. There I realized that accomplishing all of my shopping could take all 31 of those available days. I'm not sure what it is, but Christmas shopping brings out real indecision. Just when you find what you're sure is the perfect gift, just when you are preparing to take it to the counter and pay for it, just when you're ready to cross a name off your list, indecision strikes. Maybe they won't like it. Maybe they won't need it. Maybe they'll want to chuck it in the garbage, or hide it in the attic until you come and visit. Your mind tells you there are lots of better gifts out there, if only you can find them, which will better suit the recipient. Purchases become agonizing competitions with your conscience. Impulse purchases are the best, but come far too infrequently. Most people will tell you they give gifts that they would like to keep for themselves. That strategy seems to be the best, because if you like it surely friends or relatives will feel the same way. Not always. Old girlfriends have given me cologne in past years, trying to spruce up my Yuletide aroma. After the smiles and kisses and thank-yous are over, however, and it comes down to putting some of the stuff on, the torture begins. It's hard to shut your nostrils to Eau de Musk Ox. Such are the times you wish for a massive head cold to overcome you, for the duration of the relationship. Or take my brother, please. We are about as opposite as can be. He lives to work; I live to play. He's an engineer; I'm a writer. He likes Florida; I like anywhere else in the world. His favorite time of the day is getting up in the morning; mine is getting into bed at night. You get the idea. Anyway, he buys gifts from the earlier mentioned strategy of what's good for him is good for everyone else. As a result, I receive such gifts as a Rubik's Cube. My cube lasted about 12 minutes, before it was tossed into the garbage disposal in disgust and frustration. Not my idea of a good time. Last year he gave me two coffee mugs made especially for use while driving a car. The problem is I don't drink much coffee, and I don't drive to work. They found their way into the graveyard of old gifts. When it comes to me having to get him a gift, I have problems, as well. I must put myself into his shoes, an increasingly difficult task since I only see him about once every two or three years nowadays. I don't doubt that my gifts to him find their way into his gift graveyard, too. Some items are simply hard to buy. Take lingerie. I made my way into the Nordstrom' s lingerie department to look for something slinky for my roommate. When you're in lingerie, so to speak, it's tough to wonder what all off the ladies in the area are thinking about your reasons for being there. Some kind of weirdo, eh? Once you overcome the feeling that everyone is watching you, you're still not out of the lingerie woods. It's tough to picture just what the individual items would look like on the person you're buying them for, and there never seem to be any manikins in lingerie departments. When one of the saleswomen come up to ask if you need assistance, it's tempting to hold the piece up to them for an idea. What about shopping for my two nephews? Easy, right? Wrong. I decided I would start them off on the right foot and get the little guys (one is age two and the other under a year) a couple of books. If they can't read them now, they will be able to in a couple years, anyway. Dr. Seuss is a dependable storyteller, right? Wrong. I purchased a book called the Big Butter Battle in a store in the mall. It was a Dr. Seuss creation, and was on sale, so I jumped on it, without even reading through it. After all, it's Dr. Seuss. When I got home I looked through the book, only to find out that the story line follows an arms buildup, and ends with both sides (one which butters its bread on the bottom side, the other which butters on the top side) ready to drop their final weapon, a pea-sized bomb. Sounds like Dr. Seuss has entered the world of strategic nuclear weapons, and has given his feelings on such in the Big Butter Battle. Not exactly what I had in mind. w hen I got home, after waffling on a silky teddy for my roomie, after being thoroughly stymied about what to get for my bro, after facing bouts of incredible indecision, I realized the only item I had purchased was the Dr. Seuss version of world Armageddon. It was enough to make you want to cry, "Bah, humbug!" It's a good thing I've still got 26 days left! |