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2006-11-16 - 2:37 p.m.

Don’t put this under the tree for me!

In just a few days, my dear sainted mother and I will begin the Battle of the Great Christmas Gift.

With the arrival of Thanksgiving, the peace and joy of the holiday season turns into a hair-pulling, nail-scratching cat fight! We enter the get-a-gift-list fracus with swords slashing, and neither of us will budge; we’re resolute and mulish in denying the other even one hint for a Christmas gift. All reason and sane thinking are abandoned—and, by gawd, we aren’t backing down. First, we’ll try to trick one another, hoping for a slip up that reveals the ideal present, or at least a reasonable excuse for a present. Then we’ll hunker down and protect our foxholes and eventually lapse into childish pouting and fits of temper—neither of which brings us any closer to knowing what the other wants for Christmas.

We’ve been pounded and consumed by the commercial mind-set of Christmas gift giving: By gawd, it’s not Christmas unless you’ve built a mountain of gifts beneath a tree. We’ve lived that attitude for a lot of years, and, even though neither of us want or need anything and have obviously outlived the need for a gift-laden holiday, we refuse to let gift-giving go. The line is drawn in the sand, and we’ll go down fighting rather than give up the battle and admit defeat.

This year I have a plan, a battle cry against the bickering and squabbling of Christmas giving. I’m going to toss the old girl a wringer! Instead of entering into guerrilla warfare, I’m making a list—a list of things I don’t want under the tree.

I already have a partial list:

• I don’t want a Mediterranean style mansion in the timber. The neighbors built one up the road. It’s a brazen, butt-ugly mound of plaster, glass and copper. I sure as hell don’t need another one of those.
  
• Do not wrap and tie a trip to New York City in ribbon. Several years ago diva and I spent the Christmas holiday in NYC. Her then husband had already transferred to an office in New Jersey, just across the river from the Big Apple. Since diva was afraid to fly alone, it was decided I’d wing it to the city with her for Christmas. Diva, who had never lived anywhere but Missouri, was not at all in favor of moving, and things were tense--and made even more tense when then-hubby was nowhere to be found at the Newark airport when we landed. Things really got heated one evening in a Broadway theater bar in Times Square. I exited the ‘discussions’ and ended up drinking double vodka tonics at a table with strangers from Long Island. Been there, done New York City, no need to go back.
  
• Please don’t give me a fancy crinoline petticoat. Remember those gawdam things? Through most of my elementary school years, my dear sainted mother dressed me in one, and I’d run off to school looking like a flouncing toadstool. My memories of those times are of chapped and raw legs and hindend. I absolutely refuse to dress myself in silly-assed, fancy little frocks, so I have no need for a scratchy petticoat.
  
• An old man to call husband. I am only cooking meals and washing underwear for one. ME!
  
• The only time I ever attempted to bake a pie, when told to “glaze the top with egg,” I cracked and topped the crust with the whole egg. I had a very unique dessert with a fried egg on top. There’s no need to buy me a pie pan.
  
• Barry Manilow CDs. Oh, puulllease! I don’t care if he does write the songs, I don’t have to listen to them.
  
• I don’t want the pet ball snake the school nurse’s son advertised on our intranet. I don’t give a damn if it does come complete with food (mice), glass house and toys, it is not welcome in my home.
  
• Don’t waste money on penis extenders, pleasure enhancers and sex toys. Every day in my e-mail, both at home and work, I get dozens of advertisements for those hot and horny gadgets and pills. Since I haven’t purchased them myself, there’s no need for anyone else to buy me any.

  On Thanksgiving Day I'll seat myself at the table, puffed up and proud, knowing I've finally pulled one over on my mother. By then I'll have a substantial list of things I never want to own!

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