Tuesday, December 18, 2012
The gift of a bad memory and a poor attention span
So, my Christmas planning has been centered around--mm-- let's just say, budget issues. I feel pretty secure in assuming that most of my readers can sympathize, even if only by memory. I've been putting a lot of thought in to how I might make this season festive for myself and others without spending very many, you know, actual dollars. So far what I've come up with is giving myself the gift of a clean house (I like cleaning anyway, but feel guilty about doing it because a) it enables Certain Persons Who Shall Not Be Named to rely upon me for all their housekeeping, which in the end is no fun for anyone, and b) I have work-work (money) things I should be doing instead, probably); and cooking food for others.
Today, however, I gave myself another totally spectacular gift. Last year around this time, almost the entire house got painted, and in my room not only was it painted but the floor got redone as well. Much stuff was moved, and then moved again, and in some cases moved yet another couple of times. In the mess, I lost track of a small jewelry box which contained one of my favorite necklaces; a hair-flower that was so cute I had gotten compliments on it almost continually, and which prompted my mother to get me another one for my birthday; and another tiny but valuable (to me) religious-type thing, which I had wanted forever and finally got because Mom gave me money to get everyone stuff for their stockings and that's what I got for mine. I was pretty sure that I had put these things, probably in the same box, somewhere in or about my room, but for almost an entire year I haven't been able to find them in the stack I had thought they were in. I did look repeatedly. Then, more recently, I wondered if they might not be in a different place, but no luck there either. Finally today, I looked more thoroughly, and lo and behold! Hair flower, necklace, religious item-- all mine again! And all this happiness from being a bad rememberer about where I put a box.
I remember hearing a girl once say that her parents would wrap some of the toys they already owned and put them under the tree each year. I think that this sounds like a fantastic idea. I'm not sure how actual children would feel about such a practice, but since I am in charge of myself, I am totally putting a purple hair flower, necklace, etc. in my stocking this year. I may put my glasses in, too, because every time we are asked to list what we are most thankful for, I end up listing them. I wonder what else I should put in. (Dear children-- and grownups-- I would love it if you would list your ideas in the comments section. I think that they will make for most interesting reading.)
So that's how I was blessed with the gift of a bad memory. The poor attention span is about the necklace I mentioned. Several years ago, I was in one of those random discussions where random things come up and someone said that all real silver has the number 925 stamped on it. I thought about my necklace-- I had never been particularly curious about it (it was a gift, and I hadn't asked about its origins), and I had never noticed any writing on it anywhere. But it did, once I thought about it, kind of look silver-y. I pulled it out, and lo and behold! it was real silver. Later that week, I had the same line of thinking about a ring my mother had given me; I checked it out, and it turned out to be real silver, too. It was like getting both presents all over again! And thus we come to the second discussion question, beloved children (and grownups, if non-neeflings choose to participate): do you, like your auntie, have a poor attention span for some things? Would you mind telling me if there is anything you have noticed later was more valuable than you had realized at first? Certain teachers come to mind for me. I am, as before, terribly curious about your lists.
My love to you! And Merry Christmas. I may post again before then, but if not, this is officially your Christmas post (but I will certainly call, most beloved neeflings).