So we've just celebrated Christmas. So much Jesus, food, music and gift-giving. What a great time. (So glad it's over.) And speaking of gifts, whatever holiday you celebrate, we've all heard that age-old saying, "It's the thought that counts". Wanna know why? Because there's just no other explanation for some of the crap given as gifts. We've all gotten them. The weird, tacky, sometimes offensive, and often confusing gifts that are unwanted. But you can't say that. That would be rude, right? I mean someone cared enough about you to buy or make you a gift, so....it's the thought that counts right? No matter how much the gift makes you question what the giver was thinking, IF they were thinking, if they even know you...heck, if they even LIKE you, you smile and say, "thank you", and keep going. And now your either stuck with a crappy gift, or you regift it to someone else who deserves a crappy gift. But that's a different story.
Well, when I was a child, I of course was a saintly little angel who was grateful for any and every gift I got from anyone, until...
I was 12 years old and was opening a gift sent from my aunt. I carefully peeled off the paper....ok no...I tore it to shreds to get to the good stuff. I open the box with eyes gleaming with the excitement of Christmas joy. And there it is....the absolute weirdest outfit I'd ever seen. The pants were a dark navy blue, and what could only be called shiny-ugly-grandma-pants. The sweatshirt was a hideous neon yellow with a neon orange sunshine on it. It was bright. It was ugly. And pale folks shouldn't wear neon, but it was the 80s, so maybe she was trying to be cool. I went to try on the god-awful ugliness to show how saintly and appreciative I was. I mean, I had worn a crap-ton of hand-me-downs all my life, so I wasn't the pickiest kid in the world, but this made even me cringe. As I looked down on the blinding brightness of this sweatshirt, I noticed food stains on it. Really?!? Could it get worse? Not only had she sent me the worst outfit imaginable, but it was used and dirty. Ugh. Ok, just remember, it's the thought that counts. She meant well, and again, very used to hand-me-downs, so not gonna complain. When we called to thank her for the thoughtfulness of her gifts, my dear mother could not help but ask about my new fancy granny/80s reject outfit.
IT! GETS! WORSE!!!
The clothing that my dear sweet aunt had sent me belonged to my uncle's recently deceased elderly relative!!!
SHE SENT ME DEAD-OLD-LADY CLOTHES!!!
Dirty, used, food-crusted, dead-old-lady clothes! For Christmas!!! To a 12-year old kid!!!
It's the thought that counts. It's the thought that counts. It's the thought that counts.
Wait...what the devil was the thought?!?!?
Well, when I was a child, I of course was a saintly little angel who was grateful for any and every gift I got from anyone, until...
I was 12 years old and was opening a gift sent from my aunt. I carefully peeled off the paper....ok no...I tore it to shreds to get to the good stuff. I open the box with eyes gleaming with the excitement of Christmas joy. And there it is....the absolute weirdest outfit I'd ever seen. The pants were a dark navy blue, and what could only be called shiny-ugly-grandma-pants. The sweatshirt was a hideous neon yellow with a neon orange sunshine on it. It was bright. It was ugly. And pale folks shouldn't wear neon, but it was the 80s, so maybe she was trying to be cool. I went to try on the god-awful ugliness to show how saintly and appreciative I was. I mean, I had worn a crap-ton of hand-me-downs all my life, so I wasn't the pickiest kid in the world, but this made even me cringe. As I looked down on the blinding brightness of this sweatshirt, I noticed food stains on it. Really?!? Could it get worse? Not only had she sent me the worst outfit imaginable, but it was used and dirty. Ugh. Ok, just remember, it's the thought that counts. She meant well, and again, very used to hand-me-downs, so not gonna complain. When we called to thank her for the thoughtfulness of her gifts, my dear mother could not help but ask about my new fancy granny/80s reject outfit.
IT! GETS! WORSE!!!
The clothing that my dear sweet aunt had sent me belonged to my uncle's recently deceased elderly relative!!!
SHE SENT ME DEAD-OLD-LADY CLOTHES!!!
Dirty, used, food-crusted, dead-old-lady clothes! For Christmas!!! To a 12-year old kid!!!
It's the thought that counts. It's the thought that counts. It's the thought that counts.
Wait...what the devil was the thought?!?!?