Chandra Clarke

Offering Whatever Light I Can

Kitschmas is Coming

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A stuffed reindeer doll, smiling
Photo by Tim Gouw on Unsplash

I do try to like Christmas, I really do. It is, after all, supposed to be a time for getting together with family and friends, eating good food, and giving gifts.

But boy, do North American stores make it hard.

For starters, every year, the retail push starts earlier and earlier. No sooner is the Halloween stuff packed away, then the Santaware is hauled out, and stores plaster signs on every surface, with the stern warning: Only 1118 Days Until Christmas 2007!

The malls start playing the All Christmas All the Time CD (staaaaaahp!), and the sale advertisements start running on the television and radio, at 30 second intervals, just to make sure there’s no chance of you ever forgetting what season is approaching.

The hardest thing though, is trying to keep a straight face when considering some of the items offered up as “Great gift ideas!” Consider the following (real!) gift suggestions and what they might say:

NHL towel, NHL clock, NHL mug, NHL doorstop: I couldn’t think what else to get you and this stuff is everywhere this Christmas, making it easy to buy. And besides, the hockey league could use… the… money. Hmm.

Three Stooges beer opener: I have succumbed to the idea that the ideal male is no longer epitomized by the image of a gentleman in a nice suit, polished shoes, and a well-rounded education. Instead it is a guy in sweatpants and a three-day growth of facial hair.

Closet organizer: I’ve been to your house and notice that it’s, um, not very tidy. This should help.

A book, Cooking for Dummies: I’ve been to your house, and notice that, um, you put the char in char-broiled. This should help.

Actually, any “For Dummies” book: I mean this in the best possible way, honest. Please don’t throw it at me.

Phone with large number keys: Call your mom more often, darnit.

Boxing alien puppet: I went shopping at 11:55 p.m. on December 24, and this is all they had left.

Lottery ticket gift pack: I know you’re not going to win the big one, but this looks like I mean well.

Fake winning lottery tickets: I don’t want to risk you winning the big one on tickets that I buy, and anyway I have a sadistic sense of humour.

Pope Innocent III action figure: I know you go to church and stuff and this is, well, kinda churchy. And he’s got this cool hat.

Shower gels, soap, powders: This could mean any number of things like 1) I want you to smell better than you do now. 2) I want you to smell like a large vat of flowers. 3) I want you to smell like a large vat of tree oil. 4) You’re a girl and I’m told this is, you know, something girls like. Plus it’s cheaper than jewellery.

Sea monkeys: I do my shopping from the back of comic books.

Barista action figure: This is my subtle way of pointing out that you drink way, way too much coffee.

Mars glow in the dark putty: I know you like reading those scientific magazines and Mars is scientific right? Or wait, does this have to do with the chocolate bar?

An exercise machine: This is my unsubtle way of pointing out that you drink way, way too many of those fatty latte coffees. Please note I gave you an exercise machine and not free weights because I didn’t want to be hit with them. I also plan to be out of the room when you open this one.

A subscription to a humour column: This shows that I have excellent taste and my sole purpose in giving this is to spread laughter and cheer – the best gift – during the Christmas season.

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What’s the worst gift you have ever received? Tell us a good story in the comments!

 

A Change Is As Good As A Rest…Or Not

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Well…the holidays are over, and now it’s time to get back to work for a rest.

I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. You see, I have four children and two dogs. I am very clear on the origin of two inventions: rum-laced egg nog, and tranquilizer darts.

The excitement started building around the end of November when my neighbours, darn them, began stringing up Christmas lights. The stores started bustling. The Breakfast With Santa and Santa Claus Parade were held on the first weekend of December.

Given that a month represents a fairly large percentage of a child’s life, that’s an awful lot of lead time for kids. They say young children are like sponges, and this is true: by the time we picked up a tree in mid-December, my kids had absorbed so much excitement that all they could do was run around in circles and yell at the top of their voices for an hour after we got it home.

Decorating a tree with youngsters in the house was also more difficult than I’d anticipated. I think 3.5 seconds elapsed between the time I set down the box of baubles and the time my kids had them all on … all crammed into the same patch of tree space at knee height. My husband and I spent most of the evening hoping that the tree would not suddenly collapse like a bad in-store pickle jar display before they went to bed and we could fix it.

What followed was two weeks of constant repetition. The endless Christmas carols? No. Excessive TV advertising? No. I mean those mantras familiar to all parents:

“Don’t touch.”
“No.”
“I said don’t touch.”
“What did I just say?!”
“Don’t make me come over there!”
“Boy is Santa ever going to hear about this!!!”

It’s not just the kids that feel the strain of having to be on their best behaviour. Knowing as I did what Father Christmas was going to bring, I was keen to see my kids’ reaction to it all, and keeping secrets proved to be tough. Meanwhile, I’ve been after my husband to clean up his language. He works with computers, and it’s been said that you never truly know how to swear until you’ve used a computer. Nagging wasn’t working, so I decided to hit him where it hurt: his chocolate-covered almond stash. The result? A ‘cuss jar’ half-full of the things, but a lot less swearing. Indeed, now when he’s mildly annoyed, he’ll catch himself by saying “almond!” Of course when he’s trodden on stray Lego in bare feet, he has to resort to saying “!@#$–I mean a very large TRUCK full of almonds!”

Yes, the neighbours think we’re eccentric.

It wouldn’t be an Important Event if colds and the ‘flu weren’t involved somehow. Indeed, illness combined with schedule interruptions, and all the special events turned out to be too much excitement to sustain. By the time the 24th rolled around, there were tantrums nearly every five minutes. My kids threw quite a few as well.

All that said, Christmas Day was a joy. There was that kitchen problem mid-morning (You know how in the movies, faucets suddenly blow twenty feet into the air, spewing water everywhere? This, apparently, is not an exaggeration.), but otherwise it went well. My kids’ reactions were every bit as good as I’d hoped and more. We had family over; the meal was a success. My husband and I ended the day with a toast to having pulled it off.

Of course, there is still the aftermath. The 3000 pieces of Lego that need a ‘storage solution.’ The thank you cards. The pine needles, which, like cicadas, burrow into your carpet to hibernate for up to 17 years, emerging only to breed more pine needles. The wrapping paper and boxes to recycle…

Sigh. I think I’ll go have one last egg nog. And another temper tantrum.

Photo credit: SuKd/Pixabay

 

Don’t Be So Elfish

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This year, whether you’re preparing for Christmas, or Hanukah or you’re still just recovering from a particularly rambunctious Diwali, spare a thought for the poor unfortunates of the world.

No, no, I don’t mean the homeless and the poor. You’re supposed to be thinking of them anyway, and hopefully, doing something to help out. While you’re at it, however, consider:

The Poinsettia: Coddled all year in a nice warm greenhouse, given special food and water, spritz baths, and manicures. Then, on December 1, tossed on a smelly truck, dumped in the front of a store, and left to shiver in the freezing display racks. If a lucky “red,” purchased and used for a few weeks before being chucked out with the Christmas tree. If a “white” or “pink” or some other designer colour, left to shiver that much longer — until the reds are sold out.

Christmas Cake: Once a cherished tradition, now much maligned. This is thanks to a now-bankrupt bakery in Giggleswick, England that produced a huge but totally inedible batch of fruitcakes back in 1956. Many of these cakes are still in circulation, and are passed from person to person around the globe as “gifts.” The “Reclaim Christmas Baking Society” is attempting to collect these cakes and build a museum to bad baking, using the cakes themselves as bricks.

Radio and TV Announcers: Forced to say things like “Blu-Ray players make great stocking stuffers!” and “Buy your Dad his dream car this year!” without cracking up laughing. Forced to do everything in Christmas Cheer Voice.

Retail Store Clerks: Also known as “associates” and “representatives,” these poor souls have it particularly rough. Not only do they have to provide service at a rate of 452 customers per minute, they have to do so with a smile — even if the bratty three-year-old has just wrecked the stack of Barbie dolls that took an hour to assemble.

Retail Store Cashiers: Even worse than being a clerk is being a cashier. The checkout area is where store managers locate all the “novelties,” like the Singing Fish, the Dancing Hamster, and the Talking Santa. These toys are activated 1567 times a day in extreme cases. Recent studies show that the only people who actually buy these toys are the cashiers themselves, so they can take them out to the parking lot after work and run over them repeatedly with shopping carts.

Department Store Photographers: Ranked the second worst job to have in the retail sector (right after in-store janitor), photographers must hate this time of year. This is because every parent thinks that Christmas is the perfect time of year to buy that set of 54 wallet-sized photos of their child. And how easy do you think it is to make a toddler smile when he’s just been whisked through the “Our Toy Selection is Huge!” display and told he can’t touch?

The Elves: Santa gets milk and cookies. The reindeer often get carrots. The elves get nada — they have to stay home at the North Pole, freezing their little elvish tushes off. They spend Christmas slumped over cups of lukewarm cocoa, exhausted by a full year’s toy-making labour, while the delivery team gets all the credit and glory.

So this year, take a moment or two to make things better for others. Buy a nice warm blanket for the local poinsettia display. Don’t push the “Press Me! I Sing!” button on the Scooby Doo Santa toy at the store. And leave a box of take-out food for Santa to take back to the elves. A nice, hot curry, perhaps.

Happy Holidays.

Photo credit: Stevepb / Pixabay

Ho, Ho and Please, No

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merrychristmas

Ah, Christmas. That wonderful time of year set aside for best wishes, good cheer and brawls at the local Walmart.

I am not a fan of shopping, so I certainly do not understand why anyone would be prepared to get up at 4 a.m., line up in the freezing cold and then fight 300 other people just to be first through the door at a store. I can think of far more fun ways to lose my front teeth — playing hockey, for example.

I especially don’t understand the furor, given what’s usually being flogged off. Here’s a quick roundup of some of the things I’ve spotted for sale over the years:

Playmobil Hazard Crew — This toy, presumably intended for children, comes complete with two little figurines dressed in Hazmat suits, a road barricade and a cute little barrel of toxic waste. I wonder what you’d put on the tag for this gift? “Dear Junior: Here is a lasting reminder of the environmental legacy I plan to leave for you. Love, Mom.”

McDonald’s Toy Cash Register — This kit includes a cash register, play money, plastic food (!) and a headset for play drive-through service. Nothing like feeling your parents have set low career goals for you early on.

Doggy Doo Christmas Ornaments — Yes, really. Little tree ornaments shaped like piles of dog mess. Do people send these things to neighbours they hate? To dog owners as a reminder to stop and scoop? Or do they decorate their own trees with it? Note to self: do not read catalogue any further to find out which overall decorating theme this is supposed to fit into.

Secret Can Safe — These are packages made to look just like the cans of kitchen cleaner we buy at the store, only they’re empty. You’re meant to hide your money and valuables in them, as demonstrated by the pictures of cans stuffed full of money, pearls, and rubies. I’m sure anyone who has a pile of rubies will gladly pay $5.95 for a replica can, because it has ever so many more security features than the $2.99 version you can get from your grocery store.

Opoly — Monopoly sales last year must have been disappointing. I say this because I have am seen countless new versions of the game, perhaps offered in a bid to revive the franchise. There’s Catopoly (purrfect your strategy), Dogopoly (go directly to jail, do not paws at Go), U.S. Marines-opoly (storm the luxury beachfront properties), NFL-opoly (take a punt on a punt), Simpsons-opoly (Doh!), and Bible-opoly (presumably an usury free version of the game). And because no trend will leave another unturned, there also is Texas Hold ‘Em-opoly.

Yoda Bobblehead — I often wonder what the factory workers in China, where most things are manufactured these days, must think of Western society. When I see things like Yoda bobbleheads, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.

Giant Poseable Cockroach — For that hard-to-buy-for person on your list who already has a small, non-poseable cockroach.

Secret Water Bottle Safe — This is for those discerning homeowners with piles of diamonds as well as rubies. The safe is a plastic water bottle with a secret compartment hidden behind its fake label. You can even fill the top of the bottle with water to “complete the deception.” It will work fine until your fitness-happy neighbour stops by after a jog and helps himself to a cold drink from your fridge.

Edible Body Deodorant — I. Am. So. Not. Going. There.

Cell Phone Voice Changer — A small device that changes your voice as you talk into your cell phone. This is so when you crash your car into a telephone pole, the EMS personnel can look into your car and say, “No Fred, this isn’t our call out. We’re looking for a male about 53 and this is a woman of about 28.”

My advice? Stick to giving out Christmas cakes. They are statement-neutral, usually taste good, and are biodegradable and recyclable. And if you let one go stale, it makes an excellent weapon for defending that stash of precious gemstones in the fridge.