Either Side of Perfect
I walked into a store intending to buy several sheets of nice paper. I walked out with twelve pounds and forty-seven dollars worth of candy making supplies.
That's crazy, right? I'm asking because I don't know.
The thing is, I lack experience. I'm mostly missing the holiday warm fuzzy gene. You know, the one that makes people buy cookie cutters and wear sweatshirts with puff paint and answer the phone, "Merry Christmas!! You've reached the Snoodmans!!!" It's not that I'm a fun-hater. It's just that I can't get past how crappy this time of year is for anyone without money, heat, food, time, health, happiness, and/or family. That's a lot of people, maybe most people. Merry Christmas, okay, and good luck with that.
Most years, eventually, the holiday spirit nudges me. I send cards. I bake; I'm good at that. I even write a newsletter (although I call it a bluesletter and fill it with sarcastic jokes in lieu of the year's achievements.) But this year, for whatever reason, I was standing in the candy aisle of a craft store and - bam. More than a nudge.
It started with the idea that I would make candy for several of my coworkers. Just the ones I like best, or who are in charge of giving me raises, so that would be about four people. But then there were the ones who'd already given me a gift. I would have to reciprocate, so that was another three people. What about the rest of the people in my department? Three more.
The idea evolved into a truffle extravaganza for my entire thirty-person office. In my head, there would be hundreds of uniquely designed truffles piled high. I'd arrange them on an enormous silver tray, set it in the center of the table in the lunchroom, and sprinkle confetti around it for extra holiday pizazz. I'd write a charming message in gold calligraphy and people would come from all corners of the office to see. There could be ribbons involved. And tiny glass dishes wrapped in colored cellophane, a surprise in everyone's mailbox. I could cut snowflakes out of folded white paper and hang them from the ceiling, down the hallways.
"Your total comes to $47.59."
Stop. What was I doing? Three plastic bags stuffed with meltable candy chips and professional decorating tools? All the way home I thought about what a lunatic thing holiday spirit is. Nobody has it in healthy measure, we're all either Scrooge or Santa. With no viable middle ground, I guess there's nothing for me to do but make the candy. Silver tray and everything, while the spirit lasts.
That's crazy, right? I'm asking because I don't know.
The thing is, I lack experience. I'm mostly missing the holiday warm fuzzy gene. You know, the one that makes people buy cookie cutters and wear sweatshirts with puff paint and answer the phone, "Merry Christmas!! You've reached the Snoodmans!!!" It's not that I'm a fun-hater. It's just that I can't get past how crappy this time of year is for anyone without money, heat, food, time, health, happiness, and/or family. That's a lot of people, maybe most people. Merry Christmas, okay, and good luck with that.
Most years, eventually, the holiday spirit nudges me. I send cards. I bake; I'm good at that. I even write a newsletter (although I call it a bluesletter and fill it with sarcastic jokes in lieu of the year's achievements.) But this year, for whatever reason, I was standing in the candy aisle of a craft store and - bam. More than a nudge.
It started with the idea that I would make candy for several of my coworkers. Just the ones I like best, or who are in charge of giving me raises, so that would be about four people. But then there were the ones who'd already given me a gift. I would have to reciprocate, so that was another three people. What about the rest of the people in my department? Three more.
The idea evolved into a truffle extravaganza for my entire thirty-person office. In my head, there would be hundreds of uniquely designed truffles piled high. I'd arrange them on an enormous silver tray, set it in the center of the table in the lunchroom, and sprinkle confetti around it for extra holiday pizazz. I'd write a charming message in gold calligraphy and people would come from all corners of the office to see. There could be ribbons involved. And tiny glass dishes wrapped in colored cellophane, a surprise in everyone's mailbox. I could cut snowflakes out of folded white paper and hang them from the ceiling, down the hallways.
"Your total comes to $47.59."
Stop. What was I doing? Three plastic bags stuffed with meltable candy chips and professional decorating tools? All the way home I thought about what a lunatic thing holiday spirit is. Nobody has it in healthy measure, we're all either Scrooge or Santa. With no viable middle ground, I guess there's nothing for me to do but make the candy. Silver tray and everything, while the spirit lasts.
posted by Tracy at 9:27 PM
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