I also almost didn't bring presents. Simple reasons: I've been really, overly wrapped up in myself, plus my parents tend to be pretty good at figuring out what they need and just getting it. I worried any present I'd get would be extraneous, nice but not needed. I countered that by going shopping yesterday before work, at a reliable place: Powell's Books, the Hawthorne store to be exact. And I found stuff. So my folks now have a copy of "Hyperbole and a Half" by our fellow blogger Allie Brosh, plus I filled in two of three gaps in a certain collection my folks have: yep, they no longer had their copies of Sue Grafton's A, B, and C books, and I found A and G in paperback form at the store. Now to find C...
With that accomplished, I wanted to get myself more in the Christmas mood. I do believe it's better to celebrate Christmas, the gift-opening part at least, in bedclothes. The closest I could get to that without wearing my actual PJs while driving down from Portland? Bringing my robe. The one I wore here:
I pulled into the driveway of my parents' place, got out of my coat, and slipped on that bad boy. The same robe I wore to two Bagdad screenings of "The Big Lebowski," over my clothes of course. And...that helped.
We've visited. We've given each other nice gifts. We'll have dinner with family soon. And, so far, this Christmas has worked.
May it be the same for the rest of you celebrating.
