I am big on care packages. I love putting random things together to fit a theme. It's like a puzzle and it's like writing. You start with an idea, a goal, and you search for pieces that push you closer to that goal. And sometimes it ends up looking very different than you thought. I guess that's like lots of things, but for me, it is very much like writing.
This week is dedicated to care packages. I know I have at least four to talk about, and I am trying for a full seven. I give you full permission to start a slap-war with me if I don't make it.
I am much better at actually sending care packages when I am not working a zillion jobs, like now. Otherwise, I am really good at coming up with care packages that then sit on my kitchen table and gather dust while I feel bad about not getting to the post office. My friend A and I both love peanut butter. When we lived together in our first year in Chicago, we could not keep a jar in the house past two days. Between the two of us, I think we may have eaten our weight in Jif in about four weeks. When my friend A went to Guatemala to work on saving the world and other wonderful things for six months this year, she also started a blog. Within this blog, she asked for donations and gave us all updates on her progress and adventures there. (One of which included a story about a scorpion and the bathroom in the middle of the night. This is enough to make me not go there. Ever.) Anyway, being the wonderful friend that I am, I thought, I will send some money AND a care package. And then some unforeseen expenses came up. So then I thought, ok I can still send a care package. I bought a giant jar of peanut butter and a card and I found several old pictures of the two of us in college. And then I went out of the country for a wedding. So then I thought, I am a horrible person who has a giant jar of peanut butter sitting in a shoe box. I finally asked A for her address to send this package. To which she responded that there was no viable package-receiving address. So I ate the giant jar of peanut butter. I meant to send a donation instead, but then I got fired. And I still have all the rest of the parts of the package sitting in a shoe box on my kitchen table.
Anyway, when I am successful, a care package is sent at LEAST in the vicinity of a month around the celebrated date. For my mom's new teaching gig, I actually gave her a care package for Christmas, which kept me on time. My mom works at the same university at which I received my undergrad degree. Within the past few years, she took on an adjunct faculty role, teaching classes in the social work department. As a former, and sometime current, teacher, I decided to give her a package comprised of useful teaching tools. The entire thing was housed in, not a shoe box, but a clipboard that opens up to hold whatever stuff teachers need to have handy. This clipboard was something that did not exist when I was in the classroom and I have been eyeing it ever since. I think it is genius. I also think I would have shoved too many things in it to be effective.
In my mom's clipboard, I placed Post-It notes, binder clips with painted flowers on them, clickable Sharpie markers, stickers, index cards, file folders with pictures of France on them, and the coup de grace -- scented markers. Why on Earth would a college instructor need scented markers, you say? Because everyone loves them. In fact, I guarantee college students love scented markers MORE than my fifth grade students did. It reminds them of being a kid, of coloring in class and picking out their favorite scent. (Mine is the cinnamon.) To make this, and all other usefulness clear, I put little notes on each item and explained how I used them and why I included them. My mom cried.
To be fair, this is the best indication of whether my mom likes a present or not. If it's meaningful, thoughtful or just something really cool, she will cry. If my dad gives her a present and she cries, he will do a fist pump and then give the rest of us a thumbs-up.
The best part of this present is again, that it was useful. This time I am 100 percent sure that all of it was used. In fact, after using the scented markers in class once, my mom called me.
"They loved those. It was incredible. I've never seen anything like it -- they were all picking out their favorite."
The power of the care package is finding that piece that doesn't seem to fit and making it stand out as the whole point of the gift.
Monday, December 7, 2009
The Care Package Gift, Part 1
I am finding the only drawback to the theme of this blog is that I can't talk about any of the gifts I am PLANNING to give because my friends and family seem to like me so much that they actually read this thing. Even my brother seems to have read a couple of entries, which is amazing. This is why it is amazing:
Our parents have birthdays that are three days apart. Literally, they were born three days apart, in the same year, like one hospital away from each other. Every year, this means presents three days apart, which means you can't exactly repeat the same gift for each of them, because everyone has three days' worth of gift-memory. This year, I decided to order presents and have them delivered on their actual birthdays. (Or in the case of my dad's present, the closest approximate day that ProFlowers would deliver the present.) I ordered chocolate covered cherries for my dad, and a potted orchid for my mom. And on the card, I signed it from me, my boyfriend, M, and my brother, G. Then I called G and left him a message saying, I signed your name on the card of these presents, which were...(then I explained the presents,) don't forget to call on their respective birthdays, and you can take ownership of the presents.
When my dad called to thank me, he told me about the conversation he had with G, when my brother DID in fact call to wish him a happy birthday.
Dad: Say, I got a lovely package in the mail from you.
G: Whuh?
So, while my brother is a better person than me because he clearly will not take credit for something that he didn't do, he also clearly does not pay attention to things that I say. This is why him reading this blog is amazing. And I would like to thank him for this by mentioning him in a more flattering light.
Despite having a hard time remembering birthdays, my brother is an excellent gifter. He is also an excellent performer and is studying to that end in college right now. Last year, he was cast in a play called "The Corn is Green." I wanted to go see it, but he told me not to. The problem with having a brother who lives far away, with whom you actually like to hang out, and who is a performer, is that if you buy plane tickets to go see their show, you can't hang out with them. And if you buy plane tickets to go hang out with them, you can't see any of their work. So, last year, I bought plane tickets and we hung out. When I met his friends, they said, oh how nice that you came out to hang out with your brother. To which we honestly replied, well, actually we're going to our grandmother's funeral.
Funny how life works out. Anyway, for "The Corn is Green," which I didn't see, and which I don't really know anything about, I sent him a package entitled, "Things That Are Also Green." I told you I didn't actually know anything about the play.
Inside the package were things like spearmint cough drops, green socks, a new green toothbrush, (I say "new" like I would have sent him an old toothbrush,) and a gift card to CVS. Yes, I know, CVS is red, but money is green, and the gift card was supposed to represent cash flow. I put everything in a shoe box, which is my care package container of choice, and I padded it with green tissue paper. I wrote a card in green marker. I may have tried to draw Kermit on it, but if I did, I failed miserably. I know I drew ears of corn on the outside of the package, in aforementioned green marker.
Care packages, for my brother specifically, have to be useful. He doesn't like things that he can't use or that just take up space. He is a minimalist. So for all of you reading and thinking, these are spectacularly boring gifts, you are right. However, they are extremely purposeful and I'm 97 percent positive they were all used. That 3 percent is because I was so excited when he called after he got it that I didn't ask how useful it really was.
Our parents have birthdays that are three days apart. Literally, they were born three days apart, in the same year, like one hospital away from each other. Every year, this means presents three days apart, which means you can't exactly repeat the same gift for each of them, because everyone has three days' worth of gift-memory. This year, I decided to order presents and have them delivered on their actual birthdays. (Or in the case of my dad's present, the closest approximate day that ProFlowers would deliver the present.) I ordered chocolate covered cherries for my dad, and a potted orchid for my mom. And on the card, I signed it from me, my boyfriend, M, and my brother, G. Then I called G and left him a message saying, I signed your name on the card of these presents, which were...(then I explained the presents,) don't forget to call on their respective birthdays, and you can take ownership of the presents.
When my dad called to thank me, he told me about the conversation he had with G, when my brother DID in fact call to wish him a happy birthday.
Dad: Say, I got a lovely package in the mail from you.
G: Whuh?
So, while my brother is a better person than me because he clearly will not take credit for something that he didn't do, he also clearly does not pay attention to things that I say. This is why him reading this blog is amazing. And I would like to thank him for this by mentioning him in a more flattering light.
Despite having a hard time remembering birthdays, my brother is an excellent gifter. He is also an excellent performer and is studying to that end in college right now. Last year, he was cast in a play called "The Corn is Green." I wanted to go see it, but he told me not to. The problem with having a brother who lives far away, with whom you actually like to hang out, and who is a performer, is that if you buy plane tickets to go see their show, you can't hang out with them. And if you buy plane tickets to go hang out with them, you can't see any of their work. So, last year, I bought plane tickets and we hung out. When I met his friends, they said, oh how nice that you came out to hang out with your brother. To which we honestly replied, well, actually we're going to our grandmother's funeral.
Funny how life works out. Anyway, for "The Corn is Green," which I didn't see, and which I don't really know anything about, I sent him a package entitled, "Things That Are Also Green." I told you I didn't actually know anything about the play.
Inside the package were things like spearmint cough drops, green socks, a new green toothbrush, (I say "new" like I would have sent him an old toothbrush,) and a gift card to CVS. Yes, I know, CVS is red, but money is green, and the gift card was supposed to represent cash flow. I put everything in a shoe box, which is my care package container of choice, and I padded it with green tissue paper. I wrote a card in green marker. I may have tried to draw Kermit on it, but if I did, I failed miserably. I know I drew ears of corn on the outside of the package, in aforementioned green marker.
Care packages, for my brother specifically, have to be useful. He doesn't like things that he can't use or that just take up space. He is a minimalist. So for all of you reading and thinking, these are spectacularly boring gifts, you are right. However, they are extremely purposeful and I'm 97 percent positive they were all used. That 3 percent is because I was so excited when he called after he got it that I didn't ask how useful it really was.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
The Yang Gift
It has been said that couples really only fight about money. I don't know who it is that said it, but I have heard it before so it must be someone I know. Apparently, couples also fight about really stupid things that only make sense to one or both of them. Leaving my apartment today, I heard the couple below me shouting. Like, really shouting. The kind of shouting where you're not sure if they just have the TV on too loud or if they are acting out parts for a play because no one could actually be talking to another human in real life using those tones. Except that these two were. And they happened to be loud enough that when I stopped on the stairs, just out of view of their peephole, I could hear EVERY WORD. This is what they were debating:
Girl: YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD NEVER SAY IT AGAIN.
Guy: AND I DIDN'T.
Girl: YES YOU DID. YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T EVER SAY IT AND YOU SAID IT.
Guy: NO I DIDN'T. WHAT DID I SAY?
Girl: YOU SAID THAT I SAID THAT YOU WERE STUPID. AND I DIDN'T SAY THAT.
If you are thoroughly confused right now, then you might understand why I felt the need to stay on the stairs just a few minutes longer.
Guy: YOU ARE RIGHT. YOU DIDN'T SAY THAT I'M STUPID. YOU SAID THAT I SAY STUPID THINGS.
At this point, the girl is sobbing so hard, it sounds like her throat is rejecting air. And I still can't understand why she is so upset. She's mad that his opinion of her is that she does not think he's smart. This is dumb.
Anyway, the point is that clearly people fight about things other than money. And that I am really happy that I think my boyfriend is smart. Like crazy smart. The Yang is typically the masculine of the pair, the positive, the relief to the bas. In our relationship, M typically makes the decisions because I hate decisions. He thinks ahead about where to eat and how to plan the day, and I am more of a wait-and-see girl. A wait-until-you-are-so-hungry-you-can't-see girl.
With this in mind, for gift purposes, M is more practical and long-term in his present buying. This is not to say that he buys boring presents, because as I'm sure you will discover here, he is excellent at gifting as well. But it is to say that for his birthday a couple of years ago, he received a paper shredder and he was legitimately excited about it.
So, for Valentine's Day in our first year, I gave him the keys to my apartment. This present was more of whim -- I didn't think at all about if it was too soon. I knew that we spent more time at my place and it seemed like a romantic idea that he would like. For our first year anniversary, M gave me keys to his apartment. This present was much more of a marker of where our relationship was and where it was to go. It was a planned decision and it took into account how much he was thinking ahead. And the keys were on a Coach keychain that breaks apart to be two separate keychains. It is gorgeous. It is also by far the nicest label I have ever owned.
The gifts we give each other are a big indicator of how we think about each other, and M and I are very similar in this regard. Clearly, we both think keys are a great gift for romantic occasions. But the biggest difference between us is also illustrated by our gift-giving -- and this is how we present things. I, being the Yin, the calm, wait-and-see girl, always have a hand-written, sometimes hand-drawn card. I wait and watch him open the present and I don't give any clues. M, being the Yang, the positive, the effusive force, always forgets the card, or buys the first one he sees at CVS, hands me the present while I am still taking my coat off and then tells me not to be too excited while I am opening it. This process cracks me up every time.
We might fight about money, we might even fight about something stupid. But I guarantee that we won't fight about giving stupid presents.
Girl: YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD NEVER SAY IT AGAIN.
Guy: AND I DIDN'T.
Girl: YES YOU DID. YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T EVER SAY IT AND YOU SAID IT.
Guy: NO I DIDN'T. WHAT DID I SAY?
Girl: YOU SAID THAT I SAID THAT YOU WERE STUPID. AND I DIDN'T SAY THAT.
If you are thoroughly confused right now, then you might understand why I felt the need to stay on the stairs just a few minutes longer.
Guy: YOU ARE RIGHT. YOU DIDN'T SAY THAT I'M STUPID. YOU SAID THAT I SAY STUPID THINGS.
At this point, the girl is sobbing so hard, it sounds like her throat is rejecting air. And I still can't understand why she is so upset. She's mad that his opinion of her is that she does not think he's smart. This is dumb.
Anyway, the point is that clearly people fight about things other than money. And that I am really happy that I think my boyfriend is smart. Like crazy smart. The Yang is typically the masculine of the pair, the positive, the relief to the bas. In our relationship, M typically makes the decisions because I hate decisions. He thinks ahead about where to eat and how to plan the day, and I am more of a wait-and-see girl. A wait-until-you-are-so-hungry-you-can't-see girl.
With this in mind, for gift purposes, M is more practical and long-term in his present buying. This is not to say that he buys boring presents, because as I'm sure you will discover here, he is excellent at gifting as well. But it is to say that for his birthday a couple of years ago, he received a paper shredder and he was legitimately excited about it.
So, for Valentine's Day in our first year, I gave him the keys to my apartment. This present was more of whim -- I didn't think at all about if it was too soon. I knew that we spent more time at my place and it seemed like a romantic idea that he would like. For our first year anniversary, M gave me keys to his apartment. This present was much more of a marker of where our relationship was and where it was to go. It was a planned decision and it took into account how much he was thinking ahead. And the keys were on a Coach keychain that breaks apart to be two separate keychains. It is gorgeous. It is also by far the nicest label I have ever owned.
The gifts we give each other are a big indicator of how we think about each other, and M and I are very similar in this regard. Clearly, we both think keys are a great gift for romantic occasions. But the biggest difference between us is also illustrated by our gift-giving -- and this is how we present things. I, being the Yin, the calm, wait-and-see girl, always have a hand-written, sometimes hand-drawn card. I wait and watch him open the present and I don't give any clues. M, being the Yang, the positive, the effusive force, always forgets the card, or buys the first one he sees at CVS, hands me the present while I am still taking my coat off and then tells me not to be too excited while I am opening it. This process cracks me up every time.
We might fight about money, we might even fight about something stupid. But I guarantee that we won't fight about giving stupid presents.
The Yin Gift
I seem to no longer have free internet at my apartment. And by "no longer free," I mean that no one in my building is dumb enough to leave their connection unprotected anymore. I only missed a blog entry yesterday because I did not have time to park myself at Starbucks. So today, because I trekked myself, my computer and all of my unwritten holiday cards 12 blocks to the Starbucks, I decided on the way that I could have an Egg Nog latte. I have been eyeing this drink since the Red Cups appeared a few weeks ago. Since I am a certified personal trainer, I know that the caloric content is enough to replace several meals. And as a personal trainer, I also know that my 12 block walk (which is really more like 8,) even with my 8 extra pounds of computer, (which is really more like 5,) does not negate this fact. So I have been saving it for a special occasion. But I can't think of one that would involve me sitting at Starbucks.
Anyway, the point is, here I am with my Egg Nog latte, (which is awesome, but really just makes me want ACTUAL egg nog,) trying to write two blog entries to make up for my not buying internet at home. So I thought I would do a little Yin Yang theme -- one present, but two ways to do it. The Yin is supposedly the female sign, and also the negative. Not like depressing, or Debbie Downer negative, but like the absence to the presence. Yin is the negative of the photograph, the shading in the features of a face. Yin is the set of keys I gave to M for our first Valentine's Day.
I need to give you a little background for this: I hate Valentine's Day. I am starting to appreciate it more and more, and it's wonderful to have someone do lovely romantic things for you. BUT, those things are much better when they are UNexpected. And now, (I say "now" like I'm an old person who remembers the time before Hallmark,) we have this day where you have to be romantic, which is sort of unromantic by definition. When strangers find out that I speak French, sometimes they will say things like, "Say something in French." Which is annoying. And if "You're a douchebag," didn't sound exactly the same in French, I would say that. This is what Valentine's Day is like -- telling someone to do something that they like to do, and therefore making that likable thing ordinary and douche-y.
M doesn't like Valentine's Day either, for the same reasons. And I think it's because we both feel this way that we then celebrate it by actually being truly, sickly romantic. Two years ago he surprised me with tickets to the Imax theater to see the U2 movie. Last year we went to a fantastic restaurant and had champagne at home. But the first year was the best. M made me leave my apartment, (and I went to Starbucks, obv.) where he cooked a beautiful meal, put raspberries in the champagne glasses and left a box of chocolates on the coffee table along with pink rose petals. He says now that since we had only been together for 4 or 5 months, he was still courting me, and that this is why it has never happened since.
We had decided gifts were unnecessary for V Day, but I knew he had this whole thing up his sleeve and I wasn't about to just show up and eat without some kind of present. So I decided that keys to my place were a good compromise. I didn't actually buy anything except the keychain. The keychain was Cubs-related, in honor of his favorite baseball team. (This may seem like a small thing, but my team is the Red Sox, so I opted not to shove this down his throat.) I copied the keys at Sears and I wrapped it all up and made a card. It was the card that made the gift. And I have no idea now what it said.
The best part of that Valentine's Day was that it somehow captured the unexpected within the formulaic holiday. I could never have expected the all-out effort of the traditional romantic dinner from someone who feels so ambivalent about V Day. And I don't think he expected a true relationship gesture from someone who gags at jewelry commercials. So maybe it's a little more Gift of the Magi than Yin and Yang, but we are a pair nonetheless.
Anyway, the point is, here I am with my Egg Nog latte, (which is awesome, but really just makes me want ACTUAL egg nog,) trying to write two blog entries to make up for my not buying internet at home. So I thought I would do a little Yin Yang theme -- one present, but two ways to do it. The Yin is supposedly the female sign, and also the negative. Not like depressing, or Debbie Downer negative, but like the absence to the presence. Yin is the negative of the photograph, the shading in the features of a face. Yin is the set of keys I gave to M for our first Valentine's Day.
I need to give you a little background for this: I hate Valentine's Day. I am starting to appreciate it more and more, and it's wonderful to have someone do lovely romantic things for you. BUT, those things are much better when they are UNexpected. And now, (I say "now" like I'm an old person who remembers the time before Hallmark,) we have this day where you have to be romantic, which is sort of unromantic by definition. When strangers find out that I speak French, sometimes they will say things like, "Say something in French." Which is annoying. And if "You're a douchebag," didn't sound exactly the same in French, I would say that. This is what Valentine's Day is like -- telling someone to do something that they like to do, and therefore making that likable thing ordinary and douche-y.
M doesn't like Valentine's Day either, for the same reasons. And I think it's because we both feel this way that we then celebrate it by actually being truly, sickly romantic. Two years ago he surprised me with tickets to the Imax theater to see the U2 movie. Last year we went to a fantastic restaurant and had champagne at home. But the first year was the best. M made me leave my apartment, (and I went to Starbucks, obv.) where he cooked a beautiful meal, put raspberries in the champagne glasses and left a box of chocolates on the coffee table along with pink rose petals. He says now that since we had only been together for 4 or 5 months, he was still courting me, and that this is why it has never happened since.
We had decided gifts were unnecessary for V Day, but I knew he had this whole thing up his sleeve and I wasn't about to just show up and eat without some kind of present. So I decided that keys to my place were a good compromise. I didn't actually buy anything except the keychain. The keychain was Cubs-related, in honor of his favorite baseball team. (This may seem like a small thing, but my team is the Red Sox, so I opted not to shove this down his throat.) I copied the keys at Sears and I wrapped it all up and made a card. It was the card that made the gift. And I have no idea now what it said.
The best part of that Valentine's Day was that it somehow captured the unexpected within the formulaic holiday. I could never have expected the all-out effort of the traditional romantic dinner from someone who feels so ambivalent about V Day. And I don't think he expected a true relationship gesture from someone who gags at jewelry commercials. So maybe it's a little more Gift of the Magi than Yin and Yang, but we are a pair nonetheless.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
The Inside Joke Gift
Lately I've been feeling left out. I think it's mostly due to being effectively shut out from my former social network via the bar. My boyfriend, M, explained it to me this way last night:
"It's like you went through a breakup, and they got to keep all the friends."
Which is true. And this got me thinking about how frustrating it is to be on the outside of things, like party invites, really excellent gossip and inside jokes. But also how AWESOME it is to be on the inside of those same things, especially a long-running inside joke.
I am fairly oblivious in daily life and tend to be on the outside most of the time, which might explain my all-capping the awesomeness of being on the inside. Even if I didn't make up the original joke, I am happy to be involved and able to own the laughter that ensues. Like the one time my teacher friends made up a card game involving different actions for different playing cards. No one could think of anything to assign to the 5 card, so someone suggested doing something awkward. And from that day forward, anytime anything awkward happened, it was 5 Card. Did that random girl just pose in our picturel? 5 Card. This guy just totally used the gun show line and now he's just standing next to me and won't leave. So 5 Card.
We really thought this was going to take off. I truly believed we would see a hit TV sitcom using this as a recurring joke or at least part of their particularly hip and snarky language. It didn't happen. But you can see how I am still trying to push this forward. Feel free to use it with your friends as well.
Anyway, the inside joke idea made me think of the running gift gag I have with my dad. This goes back to sometime around 2000 or so. The conversation that started it all most likely happened while watching NBA basketball and most definitely went like this:
My dad: "You know, giraffes are taking over."
Me: "Like the world? Are they overpopulating?"
My dad: "No, I mean in home decor. They are everywhere. They're the next big trend."
Me: "Ok."
Not that I didn't believe him, but my dad, like me, has a tendency toward exaggeration. By "they are everywhere," he meant that he saw two giraffe statues at Pier One. So, when I began laughing, he broke too. Soon, "Giraffes are taking over the world!" was the funniest joke we could think of.
It followed suit that one of us would naturally have to prove or disprove this theory. So for my birthday, my dad found a little ceramic giraffe and gave it to me. "See," he said, "They are everywhere." And so began the Great Giraffe Gift-Off. Every holiday we exchange some version of a giraffe. We have given and received giraffe pencils, erasers, wooden statues, puppets, calendars, stuffed animals, cards, hand-drawn renderings, wrapping paper and more. Last Christmas I gave my dad a ceramic giraffe with holes in it. As an artist, he naturally turned it into a paintbrush holder. I found it at Pier One.
This joke has extended to include my aunt L, who sent me a giraffe poster in the mail, and M, who gave me a giraffe ornament. It has also extended to include non-holidays. Last year my parents went to Boston for Thanksgiving and for the first time, I didn't go. A week later I received some photos of the trip in the mail, one of which captured a giraffe head sticking out from the top of a tree.
There are two things that make this gift gag great. One, it's an inside joke between the two of us -- even though we didn't mean to limit our joke, it seems that besides the two examples I named, no one wants to join in all that much. In fact, most people, my mom included, just think we're weird. And two, giraffe trinkets are easy to find. There may not have been that many at the outset of this caper, but now, they quite literally are everywhere.
"It's like you went through a breakup, and they got to keep all the friends."
Which is true. And this got me thinking about how frustrating it is to be on the outside of things, like party invites, really excellent gossip and inside jokes. But also how AWESOME it is to be on the inside of those same things, especially a long-running inside joke.
I am fairly oblivious in daily life and tend to be on the outside most of the time, which might explain my all-capping the awesomeness of being on the inside. Even if I didn't make up the original joke, I am happy to be involved and able to own the laughter that ensues. Like the one time my teacher friends made up a card game involving different actions for different playing cards. No one could think of anything to assign to the 5 card, so someone suggested doing something awkward. And from that day forward, anytime anything awkward happened, it was 5 Card. Did that random girl just pose in our picturel? 5 Card. This guy just totally used the gun show line and now he's just standing next to me and won't leave. So 5 Card.
We really thought this was going to take off. I truly believed we would see a hit TV sitcom using this as a recurring joke or at least part of their particularly hip and snarky language. It didn't happen. But you can see how I am still trying to push this forward. Feel free to use it with your friends as well.
Anyway, the inside joke idea made me think of the running gift gag I have with my dad. This goes back to sometime around 2000 or so. The conversation that started it all most likely happened while watching NBA basketball and most definitely went like this:
My dad: "You know, giraffes are taking over."
Me: "Like the world? Are they overpopulating?"
My dad: "No, I mean in home decor. They are everywhere. They're the next big trend."
Me: "Ok."
Not that I didn't believe him, but my dad, like me, has a tendency toward exaggeration. By "they are everywhere," he meant that he saw two giraffe statues at Pier One. So, when I began laughing, he broke too. Soon, "Giraffes are taking over the world!" was the funniest joke we could think of.
It followed suit that one of us would naturally have to prove or disprove this theory. So for my birthday, my dad found a little ceramic giraffe and gave it to me. "See," he said, "They are everywhere." And so began the Great Giraffe Gift-Off. Every holiday we exchange some version of a giraffe. We have given and received giraffe pencils, erasers, wooden statues, puppets, calendars, stuffed animals, cards, hand-drawn renderings, wrapping paper and more. Last Christmas I gave my dad a ceramic giraffe with holes in it. As an artist, he naturally turned it into a paintbrush holder. I found it at Pier One.
This joke has extended to include my aunt L, who sent me a giraffe poster in the mail, and M, who gave me a giraffe ornament. It has also extended to include non-holidays. Last year my parents went to Boston for Thanksgiving and for the first time, I didn't go. A week later I received some photos of the trip in the mail, one of which captured a giraffe head sticking out from the top of a tree.
There are two things that make this gift gag great. One, it's an inside joke between the two of us -- even though we didn't mean to limit our joke, it seems that besides the two examples I named, no one wants to join in all that much. In fact, most people, my mom included, just think we're weird. And two, giraffe trinkets are easy to find. There may not have been that many at the outset of this caper, but now, they quite literally are everywhere.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
The Favorite Gift
Let me start by saying that today sucked. One of my journalism professors once said "the world is run by C students." Which is not to say that CEOs and power players all made Cs in school. He meant that if C is the average grade, then the majority of the population scored a C average throughout school. So when you are an A student (me,) and you do things like file unemployment (also me,) you are consistently annoyed by things like not being able to use your Mac computer to navigate the unemployment system. Or that your handwritten claim resulted in all of your forms being sent to the wrong address. Or that you cannot figure out how to use your government-issued debit card, but also cannot switch to direct deposit because of your reject Mac.
Anyway, as an homage to being broke, I thought I would share the Coffee-of-the-Month gift. Let me segue by saying that my boyfriend loves coffee. He calls it sweet nectar. He is not fun to be around before he has a cup in the morning. For his birthday last year I decided to get him a bunch of well-recommended coffees from around the country. As someone who drinks coffee with lots of milk and sugar substitute, I am not the best source for quality coffee. So I started by asking my friends and family for ideas. And apparently coffee drinkers are opinionated. By the time I had ten brands, I began to Google for coffee of the month gifts that included even a couple of those brands. But pre-existing gifts only exist within each particular coffee house.
So made it up. I chose twelve different coffees. I made a Powerpoint calendar with each coffee heading up a different month. I took it to Kinko's and I pretended I coudn't figure out how to print it. Kinko's printed the pages on cardstock and I cut them apart myself. I took an old CD jewel case, turned it inside out and placed the coffee slides in the lid so that it made a monthly desktop calendar. I apparently did not cut the pages well because they don't all fit in the lid. And I bought a new coffee grinder to go with it. How is this a cheap gift, you ask? The beauty of the do-it-yourself coffee of the month is that while the recipient gets wonderful coffees delivered to their door, you are only paying for each coffee each month. It's almost like a birthday layaway plan.
This present went over particularly well, and I think someone more tech-savvy than me (see "Kinko's," above,) should make this into a viable option for others to purchase online for their own caffeine-riddled loved ones. Not that any of us want those pesky C-students all hopped up on coffee, but everyone deserves something nice.
Anyway, as an homage to being broke, I thought I would share the Coffee-of-the-Month gift. Let me segue by saying that my boyfriend loves coffee. He calls it sweet nectar. He is not fun to be around before he has a cup in the morning. For his birthday last year I decided to get him a bunch of well-recommended coffees from around the country. As someone who drinks coffee with lots of milk and sugar substitute, I am not the best source for quality coffee. So I started by asking my friends and family for ideas. And apparently coffee drinkers are opinionated. By the time I had ten brands, I began to Google for coffee of the month gifts that included even a couple of those brands. But pre-existing gifts only exist within each particular coffee house.
So made it up. I chose twelve different coffees. I made a Powerpoint calendar with each coffee heading up a different month. I took it to Kinko's and I pretended I coudn't figure out how to print it. Kinko's printed the pages on cardstock and I cut them apart myself. I took an old CD jewel case, turned it inside out and placed the coffee slides in the lid so that it made a monthly desktop calendar. I apparently did not cut the pages well because they don't all fit in the lid. And I bought a new coffee grinder to go with it. How is this a cheap gift, you ask? The beauty of the do-it-yourself coffee of the month is that while the recipient gets wonderful coffees delivered to their door, you are only paying for each coffee each month. It's almost like a birthday layaway plan.
This present went over particularly well, and I think someone more tech-savvy than me (see "Kinko's," above,) should make this into a viable option for others to purchase online for their own caffeine-riddled loved ones. Not that any of us want those pesky C-students all hopped up on coffee, but everyone deserves something nice.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
The Short Gift
Once upon a 1980s Christmas, my mom and I conspired to make a photo album for my dad. My mom gave me a camera to use, and I took pictures around the house and neighborhood. My mom titled the album "The World According to Kate." I was around 5 years old. And I was not tall. The world according to me ended up being the view of coffee tables and knees.
I highly recommend this type of photo montage for Father's Day or Mother's Day presents. It is hilarious. Just be sure the intended recipient will react like my dad at the time, who praised my artistic ability and thoughtfulness and did not laugh at my lack of perspective. At least to my face.
Given that I am still not tall, this might explain my fear of crowds. While in pictures, having a vertically limited view is amusing, at the Taste of Chicago, or in a packed bar, it feels like drowning in a sea of shoulders and elbows. I used to teach fifth graders on the south side of Chicago, and they would routinely do and say things that would make my nerves catch fire. A scampering little mouse would spontaneously appear in my muscular system and run through my body and I would yell. I would yell from the bottom of my stomach. It would rip through every fiber of my throat until the yell exploded into the room and didn't have any impact whatsoever.
For some reason, being in crowds now produces the same scampering mouse feeling that my students used to elicit in me. The yelling, however, is frowned upon in general public. Why it is generally accepted in urban public schools remains a matter for another blog entry. The point is, being short makes for some frustrating experiences as an adult, but some truly remarkable photos as a child.
A few years ago, I thought it would be moderately hilarious to repeat this photography experiment at five foot three. So, in the winter of 2003, I took a camera and wandered around my Chicago neighborhood, taking pictures only at my height. The result is somewhat lame. But, when all you see is a trash can and part of a wall, and then you are told that it is Wrigley Field, it is still pretty funny.
I highly recommend this type of photo montage for Father's Day or Mother's Day presents. It is hilarious. Just be sure the intended recipient will react like my dad at the time, who praised my artistic ability and thoughtfulness and did not laugh at my lack of perspective. At least to my face.
Given that I am still not tall, this might explain my fear of crowds. While in pictures, having a vertically limited view is amusing, at the Taste of Chicago, or in a packed bar, it feels like drowning in a sea of shoulders and elbows. I used to teach fifth graders on the south side of Chicago, and they would routinely do and say things that would make my nerves catch fire. A scampering little mouse would spontaneously appear in my muscular system and run through my body and I would yell. I would yell from the bottom of my stomach. It would rip through every fiber of my throat until the yell exploded into the room and didn't have any impact whatsoever.
For some reason, being in crowds now produces the same scampering mouse feeling that my students used to elicit in me. The yelling, however, is frowned upon in general public. Why it is generally accepted in urban public schools remains a matter for another blog entry. The point is, being short makes for some frustrating experiences as an adult, but some truly remarkable photos as a child.
A few years ago, I thought it would be moderately hilarious to repeat this photography experiment at five foot three. So, in the winter of 2003, I took a camera and wandered around my Chicago neighborhood, taking pictures only at my height. The result is somewhat lame. But, when all you see is a trash can and part of a wall, and then you are told that it is Wrigley Field, it is still pretty funny.
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