My niece reminded me that I’d left my loyal Boonedoggler readers high and dry for a few weeks. No pictures. No love. Boonedoggler went dark. My only excuse is that I was working on a blog from my safari but haven’t finished it yet. That post will have to wait while I tackle the pending Christmas holidays and hopefully put a smile on your faces.
Today, I write to you from the world’s longest line at the Old Navy store in Jackson, Mississippi. The line has given me the opportunity I needed to update you all on my Christmas shopping efforts and ask you to send me your prayers for peace and serenity. This year I’ve offered to take my two nieces (12 and 14) shopping for clothes. You mothers out there are already shaking your heads. You know how this is going to go before I say another word.
And frankly, this ain’t my first rodeo. I took my older nieces on similar escapades a few years ago but maybe I was younger or more resilient then.
Anyway. Here’s what happening. I wander through various stores with one niece at a time searching for that perfect clothing item. When I see something cute, I hold it up and nine times out of ten it’s met with a look that says, “Aunt Cathy has lost her mind.” or “You cannot be serious.” One niece used a technique I’ve employed when faced with something too horrible to respond to, which is to say “Hmmmm” and walk away. No eye contact. Since they are reading this, I acknowledge that they are very polite, but it is still a hard “No.”
This causes me to reflect on whether I do, in fact, have bad taste. A deep sense of confidence and intestinal fortitude is required. I must also confess that an apology is long overdue to my mother because I was exactly the same way. Still am sometimes, to be honest.
Very, very rarely I hit on an acceptable item and then it’s off to the fitting room where I linger outside (hovering without being discovered and trying to appear disinterested) until she emerges to model it (or not, as the case may be). I still have PTSD from the excruciating experience of modeling clothes for my Grandmother and various bitchy salespeople at Harold’s in Jackson. I try not to damage my nieces that way.
Finding clothes isn’t easy when you don’t want anything bedazzled, too low-cut, or too bulky and nothing with too wide a neck or (heaven forbid!) a turtle or mock turtleneck. Did I fail to mention that they will accept absolutely any color of the rainbow as long as it’s neutral, grey or white? I’m exaggerating only slightly but you feel me.
As my blood sugar gets low, I begin to wonder what I was thinking suggesting this. But then she says something funny and I laugh until tears roll down my cheeks. It’s actually precious time with these girls that I’m buying — the clothes are just the proxy. Smart, fun, creative, cute, sweet — all my little people (my nieces and nephews nothing from Bravo! TV) delight me in their own way. I think one niece threw me a bone with a red shirt at Old Navy. She declined to be photographed for the blog, though she is an ardent follower. (Retraction — the red shirt did not make the final cut in favor of — you guessed it — grey). She’s also quick to clarify that she does like color, but “It’s baby steps, Aunt Cathy!”
So here’s a big kiss for any of you out there shopping or driving or wrapping or doing any of the other holiday-related things that can make us crazy. I hope you can tap into a source of love or fun or gratitude or whatever it takes to get through.
And not just barely “get through.” My hope for us all is to slow down, drop some balls, and let it be. We are enough. We have enough. And for today, let that be enough.
Merry Christmas
Boonedoggler 