Happy Birthday, Jesus!

To celebrate, we'll be at the mall.

Stupid. This year I procrastinated. Every year I procrastinate. The worst to buy for this year? My parents. Why? Mom tells me what she wants - runs out of patience and buys it herself. Dad isn't as bad - I have a few ideas. The point of the story is that these ideas could have easily materialized earlier than five days before Christmas when all the other procrastinators are all in the same stores with the same bad attitude.

The Stylist and I took our chances at the mall this afternoon and both made the same observations about Christmas shopping crazies. My favorite observation from the Stylist was about people who stand with their hands on their hips, taking up as much space as humanly possible in tiny store aisles. Sincerely space hogs - is your stance aiding in your decision making process or are you always this inconsiderate?

Can you (hi Mom!) tell that I am more than a little disenchanted with the modern observance of Christmas? It's taken me nearly twenty-five years to realize that Jesus gets the shaft on His birthday nearly every year. Admist the hustle and bustle of my shopping experience neither the wise men, nor Mary or Joseph, nor the manger or even baby Jesus himself popped into my mind. I know. Rather at the forefront of my mind was the overwhelming urge to (and I know I have mentioned this idea before) clothesline the little kids whipping through the mall on Heelies.

Fa la la la la. La la. La. La.