Guy-Wrapping

We've all seen the perfectly wrapped packages under the tree - sharp-cornered, unwrinkled, and flawless with paper and bows chosen in exquisite taste by a high-end interior designer at the NY Macy's Mother-ship and perfectly coordinated with every other gift under the tree in a cohesive visual presentation worthy of Martha Stewart in overdrive.

Envy.

Then there is "guy-wrapping". Wrinkled, contorted, and with a hot pink bow from fashion hell the gifts are barely covered...like Big Momma of lawdog's memoirs dressed in a mini-bikini, the high points are covered, but there's not a whole lot of doubt about just what's going on. Co-ordination? Umm. "They're under the tree and nothing has fallen over or collapsed, right?"

I am a guy-wrapper. While I envy my fey brethren their skills, I'm a lot more comfortable with a table saw and a brad gun than I am with a roll of wrapping paper and a bag of bows. When the time came for the powers above, having issued a fairy membership card with my name upon it, to check off the various categories of competence - elegant wrapping skills, fashion appreciation, and flawless taste somehow never got checked off. In a moment of confusion, whoever was in charge instead checked off "likes things that go bang", "firearms appreciation", and "fondness for individual liberty". Ah well...

This year shopping consisted of several scream'n'leap events focused on acquiring items for the house-apes and the occasional item for friends and adult family (though mostly just baking huge quantities of gingerbread for the grown-up segment). A quick trip to the bookstore to introduce the eldest niece to Discworld and the youngest to Nancy Drew bore fruit, followed some days later by a mad rush through the big housewares store and evil humor moments as the nieces were lined up with neon pink fleece comforters and 300-count sheets, vast quantities of sugary chewables, and sundry other items. A friend who has asked me to help build his kitchen equipment inventory ended up with, surprise, kitchenware and that fundamental tool, the slow cooker...anyone who helps me on a 1000 mile drive gets a few little trinkets, in my book.

I'm thinking that next year the 10yo will be ready for Garret, PI, but I'm looking for more girly books that will introduce the notion "self-defense/preparedness=good, defenseless=bad"...

Burbling done, back to wrapping abominations...