I spent way too much money in Books-a-Million last night. There is just something about that store that makes me want to move in. I'm not a huge coffee drinker, but I always want a cup the moment I walk in the door. I could stroll for hours through the aisles of shelves heavy laden with volume after volume of something potentially wonderful.
The center displays are overflowing with the latest trends: vampire novels and political tell-alls. I love to hate the complete gift sets.... the easy way to own every book in a series. That seems like a cheaters way of doing things. I am in love with several series of books. Three to be exact. Well, maybe 4. :) When you invest yourself in a series, you have the thrill of the book itself, the agony of the months you must wait before the next volume is in print, the sense of victory when you track down a bookstore that still has a copy available (because I will not stoop to preordering... it's like hunting on a baited field). When you buy the entire series all at once, you lose some of what it is that you love about the whole experience.
Case in point: I remember going with Hollie to Savannah to get our hands on the new JR Ward book (Vampire porn I admit) the day it came out. This was 3 books ago. Sadly, she wrote this Guide to the Brotherhood book that totally blew and I own the last book in the series, but I haven't had the heart to read it, fearing it will suck as much as the Guide did, thus killing my desire to read and ultimately my will to live (wow - I have been watching a lot of melodramas lately).
But I digress... I was talking about moving into BaM and why I love that store. There are so many wonderful books there, I could spend hours..... but a thought hits me right before I steel myself enough to leave.... a great many of those books will suck. They will inevitably end up in the discount bin and then the remaining few copies will either end up as firestarters in the third world or as props to help level tables in the homes of people whose floors have received some sort of water damage. That must be a horrible life.
So, I walked out of there with a book as a gift for myself and one for someone else. It's hard to pass up David Sedaris. He is genius :)
And I know that we are all supposed to be wearing recycled shoes and driving alternative fuel vehicles while sorting our paper, glass, and plastic to be recycled while buying locally for small businesses and avoiding the big chain stores, but WalMart.... oh where for art thou WalMart? How could I have forgotten that your flourescently lighted aisles and employees running their "zone defense" could save me almost half? Ah, the agony....
Labels: BaM
I took my four year old nephew to Lights of the South tonight. It's 10 acres of Christmas lights. It's really wonderful. Santa is there. You can go on a hayride through all of the lights. There are all of these little hot chocolate vendors and all of these little classic village houses that serve as playhouses for the kids and as the concession stands. It's
really very cute. The little kids can even ride in a little train that I think is made from golf carts, but I can't be sure... an engineer, I am not. It was precious.
Bowen is really excited about Christmas and he looked at me with the kind of awe, wonder, and honesty that only a child can have and he told me, "I know where we are! We are at the North Pole". It would have been so wrong to tell him the truth.
Grovetown, GA may not be the
North Pole, but there is a little
blonde haired boy who is fast asleep and he is convinced that he went to the North Pole tonight and Santa was there. He saw Santa's house and the workshop where the toys are made and he saw all of the lights and all the magic of Christmas. How could it not be the North Pole?
It was one of those completely precious evenings and I can see myself looking back on when I am old... older than I am now and smiling. When Bowen is a grownup, he will remember going to the North Pole when he was a little boy. I loved that.
So needless to say, this one little adventure has certainly cranked my spirit up a notch. Perhaps tomorrow I will bake Christmas cookies and watch Christmas Vacation.... maybe.... :)
Christmas is on the horizon. Woo freakin Hoo. I'm not in the Crimmis spirit this year. Last year I was channeling Martha Stewart as I baked countless cookies and prepared for the annual cinnamon- roll -Christmas -morning. I was super excited about Santa coming for the nieces and nephews.... this year, my biggest excitement is waiting for Dog the Bounty Hunter to locate Santa. This is generally the point where people reach for a hand gun and take themselves out before life gets any shittier.
...but life isn't shitty... not in the least... it just bothers me that I don't feel like anyone has shoved some mistletoe up my ass this year. Where is the crimmis spirit?
I remember being a kid. The excitement for Santa was unbelievable. The meteorologist in the gray suit and Christmas tie would show us Santa on the radar because not only can the meteorologist predict a thunderstorm, he can predict Santa's flight plan. I can remember my brother waking me up while it was still dark outside and racing into the living room to see what Santa left us. I remember the year I finally knew for sure (all lingering hope abolished) that Santa was a crock.... it left a certain sense of sadness that children can only experience when they realize that there is no magic in the world. It's a sadness that you carry with you for the rest of your life.
On my commute to work, I think about all sorts of random things. Lately, I have been thinking about Christmas past in a way that even Marley could be proud of. I wonder about the world often and most recently, I wonder what the world would be like if yes, Virginia, there really is a Santa Claus.... I wonder how many of us would really try to be good and how many of us would tell Santa to go fuck himself and go to Radio Shack and buy presents for ourselves.
Parents would face a particular dilemma. What if your kid was a real asshole, but you loved him anyway? Would you buy gifts and slip them under the tree and pretend they were from Santa to keep the magic alive? Would that put the parents on the naughty list? Would Santa be on TMZ after being stalked and harrassed by the paparazzi? Would an elf end up on 60 minutes admitting to years of sexual abuse from Father Christmas? Would Mrs. Claus put dents in the sleigh with a golf club after accusations of Santa's infidelities surfaced? Would she end up on Oprah talking about how all the spark left the marriage when he spent a questionable amount of hours with the reindeer? Would Santa end up as a spokesman for the American Diabetic Association, requesting sugar free cookies this year?
The possibilities are endless. I realize how Santa, even if he were real, could never exist in our present society.... that being said....
I can't remember a better time of life. The years spent believing in Santa are really magical and something I look back on with absolute joy. I remember getting my play kitchen one year and a play grocery store that was probably 100 percent cardboard but it was still awesome.
This train of thought made me think about religion. I don't know if there is a God. I have great faith that there is. I hope that there is. I like the idea of having something/someone to believe in.... So, I guess I would rather have faith in something that may not exist than to know for certain it's a hoax. Sometimes the joy is not in the truth, but in the belief.
Labels: crimmis time
