No More Christmas.

I really don't like Christmas.

I don't like all the over hype, I don't like all the crowds, I don't like all the people who donate to some cause ONCE A YEAR and think that makes them a saint. I don't like trying to go to the store to buy some boots and ending up getting mowed over by some woman who has to get the new "It" toy or Jayden or Brayden or Katelynn or Maddisyn or whatever will be SO disappointed.

The things I remember from Christmas aren't the presents. The things I remember are crowding into my grandmother's tiny house with all our billion relatives and laughing and talking. I remember my aunt making me special Jell-O shots because I was sick so often, or had braces, or whatever. I remember seeing my cousins and being called "Dodie's daughter, you know the hippie one."

Apparently refusing to eat pork, talking about carbon emissions and overpopulation makes me a hippie. It's sort of amusing. No, Uncle, I don't want to go hunting with you. No, I don't know how to help you catch a buck all "scientific."

I remember baking cookies with my aunt. I remember eating candy glass with my cousin in the dining room and talking about boy bands. I don't remember my toys. I don't remember how many things I got or didn't get. I just. Don't. Care.

I'm not saying don't get kids anything. I'm saying--well, just remember that there's a lot beyond that, you know?

Now that I've been on a tirade about consumerism, allow me to be wee bit hypocritical and state what I got She Who Must Be Kept.

When my parents got married, my father turned to my mother and said; "You're not worth diamonds." That marriage is full of stories like this. And She Who Must Be Kept doesn't like diamonds anyway, but you know, it would have been nice to get them...

So, on black Friday, I bought her a diamond and sterling silver ring. It was twenty dollars, on super duper sale and all that. I know she won't wear it, I know she won't really like to wear it--but I just wanted to get it for the idea.

I think she's worth diamonds.