Fasten your seatbelts and gird your loins, I’m Christmas shopping for real today. Or maybe at the very latest tomorrow. Going to a mall. Yee Gods, a scary thought. But with me going to the mall is like trying to get a kid in a bathtub. They kick and scream until they get there. Then they have a blast and don’t want to come out. Being as this Christmas week I’m going to actually spend some money instead of just looking.
The only person on my list that I don’t really want to shop for is the sister-in-law from hell. I tried to like her. I really did, but it’s just not possible. She’s one of those people who, if she lived in medieval times, would be jockeying to have me beheaded. Just for being me. She married what she thinks is the heir to the throne and views me as a potential usurper. Big effin deal, so I married her husband’s baby brother. Get over it. She did the hard work and birthed the grandchildren. I have no intention of birthing no babies. Been there done that. And I don’t want her damned husband, thank you very much! He’s even more conservative than my husband. And that’s difficult to achieve, let me tell you. I don’t think there a conservo-meter that measures that far to the right.
So anyway, I’ll pull myself back from this hissy fit and get back to shopping. The thing I love most about going to the mall at Christmas time is the people watching. Hoo Lordy. Some people charge around like enraged rhinoceroses, knocking you out-of-the-way to get at the huge pile of gifty things on sale. Yea, like they don’t have 50 million more in the stockroom. Give me a break.
Others wander around with their eyes glazed over. Husbands holding pocket books. Kids whining because what they really want to do is rip everything up or take a nap. I can understand that feeling. I like to stare at people and imagine what their story is. Maybe I could wear a flack jacket with the word writer on it and run around trying to interview people. Would mall security throw me out? Hmmm, I know. I’ll hire some college kid to follow me around with a video camera and pretend I’m interviewing for a mythical channel called KWAK. Now we’re talking. Oh the fun I could have. Maybe I’ll throw caution to the winds and have my picture taken sitting on Santa’s lap.