presents

The traditional “what the hell?” gift and other Christmas surprises

Posted on by K.S. Schultz

Inevitably, I receive at least one Christmas gift that makes me wonder, “What the hell made her buy me that?” and it is usually from my Mom.  I am her only child and can only surmise that it is because she buys me so many gifts and gets caught up in a Christmas buying frenzy.  This year it was Hello Kitty sleep pants.  I try not to say, “What the hell?” out loud anymore, but could not stifle my laughter.  Accustomed to my insensitivity, my Mom immediately offered, “They are SO cute!”  But, I am not a cutesy kind of gal, despite the winking kitty and the kitty with reading glasses that make me giggle every time I look at them.  However I create characters who are, so I will wear them when I need to channel a girly girl.  When she reads this she will say out loud, “I gave you gift receipts”, but I would never dream of returning them.  They and everything else quickly faded into the background when I opened the Godiva chocolate bar she gave me.  “Rapture” and “ecstasy” are how I would describe my experience with Godiva.

My Daughter gave me a jar of brandied blackberry jam.  I have not had booze with breakfast before, but this stuff has made me a believer.  Well, at least in brandied jam.  My Dad gifts me with monkeys because the monkey is my Chinese astrological sign.  This year I received a monkey steel bank where the monkey climbs a palm tree to deposit a coin in the top of the tree.  My home office is called “the monkey room” because it houses the majority of them.  They scare the shit out of my husband who knows that monkeys are not always fun.  Hearing how meaningful these monkey gifts are to me, my friend David made me monkey cookies for Christmas.  The cookies were extra special because he had to form them with mix and match cutters, not having a monkey cookie-cutter, and he put spices in them so they were not the usual sugar cookies.  David is not the usual friend; he is a bit spicier.  In case you have not figured it out, my family goes to great lengths to buy thoughtful gifts (I think my Mom does it on purpose).  In the season of consumption it may be our way of separating ourselves from the herd and appreciating each person’s uniqueness.  I really am quite blessed with an unusual group of family and friends who make this absurd world not only more bearable, but lovely and laughable.

Power on a chain

Posted on by K.S. Schultz

I instantly wanted my own pistol necklace when I spied Whitney Cummings’ version on TV.  My husband, amused by my Christmas wish, warned me that I would not always want a pistol necklace, meaning that I would not always feel a deep need for justice like I do today. But, the necklace is not a symbol of justice or vengeance, but one of power.  If you have ever felt the frustrating impotence of victimization I highly recommend target shooting.  It is cathartic to load, aim, and shoot a gun, more so when I hit the intended target.  Just so we are clear here: I am not referring to a psychotic break during which I shoot people who have done me wrong.  The calculated process involved in successfully hitting my target requires concentration and discipline, attributes that madmen typically lack.  My mind cannot be sullied with bastards and bitches while focusing on my stance, breathing, grip, sighting alignment, and follow-through.  The experience is all about me and I do not think of anything else while shooting.

To my delight I received a pistol pendant necklace, a sure sign that I was on the nice list despite opposing opinions and that my husband supports me even when he thinks I am a bit crazy.  The pistol pendant symbolizes my approach to 2012.  I began taking a beta-blocker to calm those pesky tremors I had since I was twelve, finally accepting that impressions form other’s reactions to me and my tremor was similar to blood in the water for sharks.  My aim has improved, along with my blood pressure.  Back to the bastards and bitches now; in order to hit my target I must focus on aligning the sights rather than the looking at the target.  What is my goal/bull’s-eye?  If I focus on the bastards and bitches rather than bull’s-eye justice, my accuracy will suffer, not to mention my mood.  Good shooting is firmly methodical rather than knee-jerk emotional and not to be rushed.  My pistol pendant symbolizes a disciplined approach and personal power, but the look of confusion on people’s faces when they notice it will be wildly entertaining, too.  I may not wear it to job interviews, though.