Just Hanging Out
See those stockings? Up there, in the picture? They need stuffing. Unlike my turkey. It needs defrosting.
I transferred the frozen bird from its freezer sleep to the fridge, yesterday morning, in hopes that it’ll be ready for cooking on Christmas Day.
The stockings are another matter.
You see, I have a love-hate relationship with Christmas stockings, which, of course, reaches far back into my childhood–where everything else dysfunctional about me resides. As a kid, I always yearned for those pre-made netted “stockings;” the ones filled with all sorts of cheap, hard candies and toys nobody really wanted. But, I wanted them, because in my childhood mind, I believed they represented an American family’s picture of Christmas. Unfortunately, Norman Rockwell didn’t knock on our door.
So, when I had my own family, Mr. Rockwell not only knocked, he was welcomed in with a hearty Christmas cheer. Hence, the stockings you see pictured above.
I think the best part about Christmas shopping (There’s a BEST part?) is thinking up ways to fill up the stockings with clever, yet satisfying, stuff. Each year, I seem to outdo the one before. This year presented some challenges, in that, the last two Christmases afforded them with many electronic gadgets, and, really, how many gadgets does any one person need? Candy is a given. Money, too.
I headed out to a few select places and managed to find some unexpected treasures. Can’t divulge them, though. You never know who’ll be reading this. Well, actually I do know. The boys will not be reading this post. Or any post of mine, since they think it’s a complete waste of time. But, violin girl occasionally indulges me, so, for her sake, I will not disclose.
While out shopping, I found some ornaments at MARSHALL’S–on sale!
And two of these: One for our tree, and one to be tied to a gift bag of goodies for our neighbor friends–a Christmas tradition started by driver/shutter boy.
Last year, pretty much everything was found in their stockings. So much so, that violin girl requested that I wrap something, anything to put under the tree. In fact, after opening a gift, a friend had given her, she wrapped it in tissue paper and placed it under the tree. She didn’t think it was right that all the gifts be stuffed into a fake, exaggerated stocking.
This year will be different. There will be one, wrapped and bowed, and placed under the tree, awaiting her.
The boys? They’re good with the fake, exaggerated stockings.