The secrets of hiding holiday gifts.
Molly Dugger Brennan
Best wishes to everyone in the Blue Ridge Country community for a lovely holiday season and a fabulous new year.
Of all the things that go into making the holiday season what it is, I think I adore the food the most. Yep, definitely the abundance of delicious food. But a close second place would have to go to giving gifts to the people I love.
It gives me great pleasure to find a gift I think the person will love. I keep an eye out the whole year for things I think will tickle their fancy, surprise them, or be well used by them. I give this a lot of thought. I make an effort not to ever repeat a gift.
For example, I try not to give Aunt Cathy cardinal-themed gifts every year just because she mentioned once in 1982 that she liked red birds. I try to be more observant of my family’s habits so the gift fits their preferences. My apologies to my dear Aunt Cathy again, as I bought her a lovely set of porcelain coffee mugs without realizing she does not drink coffee. Honestly, maybe I should start taking notes or something.
So it is with great delight that I bring home absolutely perfect gifts for family and friends during the year and store them in a safe place. You’ve heard of “the safe place” haven’t you? It is a spot in the house where the rest of the family won’t stumble upon their ideal gifts until I present them, beautifully wrapped, during the holidays. Ta da!
You have to have multiple safe places in your house because everyone pokes about different areas. Gifts for my husband can be safely tucked away in my baking supplies since he never bakes these days, but the rest of the house is up for grabs. Gifts for my niece cannot be anywhere near the computers, craft supplies, or kitchen since she’s all over that. Gifts for my dog-loving friends can’t be stored anywhere my own dogs might get into.
Maybe you know the safe place by its other name, the black hole of mystery, because once I hide a gift away, the likelihood that I will find it again by December is slim. I was doing some spring cleaning this year and on the top shelf, shoved way back in a corner in the linen closet, I found a treasure trove of old gifts, still waiting for their moment to shine. I don’t think my niece, who is graduating college next year, will really experience the joy I imagined when I bought this set of Legos for her.
I have toys for children that are way too old to play with them now. I have people’s favorite movies on VHS tape. I have clothing in sizes the recipient grew out of ages ago. I have a little statuette of a dachshund I bought for my friend when she got her Doxie puppy. That dog passed away two years ago from old age. So help me, I found jam that has turned a color that is just not natural. I cannot call it jam anymore since it seems to have morphed into strawberry-rhubarb sludge.
Then there’s the gorgeous monogrammed stationery for a woman whose initials have changed due to a divorce and remarriage. Twice. Life simply does not wait for me to discover where I hid these gifts. Often, I don’t even remember the specifics of what I’ve bought. It’s all a vague fog of did I already get something for Didi or not.
So my intentions are good. Really, they are. Evidently, my ability to hide gifts from everyone, including myself, is spectacular, magical even. Like I am sending these presents to another dimension. Unfortunately, I haven’t mastered how to conjure their return at the peak moment of usefulness.
Honestly, maybe I should start taking notes or something.
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The story above appears in our Nov./Dec. 2018 issue. For more like it, subscribe today or log in to the digital edition with your active digital subscription.