It's not Christmas yet but I've gotten several presents already. I don't understand it but I am thrilled to pieces. I adore giving presents and I'm perfectly shameless about receiving them, especially when it's clear how much fun the giver had picking it out for me. I have a terrible time saying, "Buy this for me," however, even when it would make it much easier on the gift giver. I'd far rather they took a chance on something so I don't have to give up the sensation of surprise. I don't mind hinting, of course.
I was genuinely surprised when my best friend Denise Rehse gave me an enormous book on 20th century shoes. I shrieked with joy at receiving it. We both squealed, if you must know the truth, for we are both shoe fiends. It is lavishly full of gorgeous photographs of designer shoes (and it does have a few representational 18th and 19th century shoes for historical background). I want a pair of Manolo Blahniks before I die, okay? Ice blue, strappy, and heels to die for; nothing sensible about them, just sheer sex.
I was equally surprised when I discovered a package from Kim Huett, Australian music distributor and sf fan, awaited me at the Thanksgiving festivities. He'd said he was sending me a book but the parcel actually contained a Lucy Huntzinger Activity Pack. This turned out to be two Mills & Boon books (dreadful), a Bilby hand puppet with which I menaced the cats, some Tom Vernon tapes (great narrative about food and bicycling), and several other amusing items. It did, as promised, keep me busy for hours.
I used to have a big chip on my shoulder about Christmas gifts. I mean, after adolescence hit, the presents weren't nearly as fun as they used to be and I started worrying quite a lot about what to get people. In my family, we take the aversion to being specific about what you want for a gift to extremes. In fact, you need to be psychic to discern what people want, and if you don't get something just right it gets exchanged. For some reason that used to bother me deeply, as though the person was saying, "In returning this item I reject you utterly. Also, you suck." Nowadays, I don't mind at all because I know that it really is the thought that counts, and there's nothing wrong with getting exactly what you want if the gift-giver misjudged slightly. It's still a gift from the heart. And that's the part that matters.
So just in case you're wondering, I got a third gift. The Mining Company finally bestowed Diary of the Week on Aries Moon. Yay.
