Hi ho the holly

I have a dirty secret.

I like Christmas shopping.

Now, I'm not completely deranged - I don't like the crowds, I don't like the terrible treacly "seasonal" muzak, I don't like the Photo With Santa! setup near the mall food court. But the list-making, the browsing, the pondering, the packages, even... I must be honest with you... even the giant snowflakes of lights hanging over escalators or in trees... I like it. The process is so tangible and easily measured; I feel so accomplished with a bag full of goods, and when I'm Christmas shopping I don't get that children-and-grandmothers-are-starving-in-India pulse of guilt I get after a shopping trip for myself.

Partly it's that I like giving presents, period. I like the satisfaction of puzzling over someone and then coming up with something good. I really like fortuitous finds on the clearance rack. Partly it's that I quite like Christmas. I like all the truly ancient bits - the greens, and the lights, and the feasting, and marking the solstice. Not so much for the misrule, but we don't do that very much around here. I like the church bits, non-seasonal Hallelujah Choruses and all. Okay, not the forty-minute sermon of stories from animals around the creche that Rev. StandUpComedian did last Christmas Eve, but other than that, I mean. I pretty much like the family bits, though it's been really stressful since my cousin M died, even last year when his parents and brother didn't come to the family Christmas at my grandmother's house. My father loves Christmas - mainly the church and sacred music parts, but trees and lights and food too. I like watching him love it.

I also enjoy wrapping gifts to a degree that might be pathological.