Friday, December 14, 2007

a web-savvy, homespun Christmas

I am a web-geek/granola/atrophying intellectual.


In recent weeks, I have completed a myriad of purchases online, from the mundane to the
“you’ve-gotta-be-kidding-me.” A selection:

  • A Sofa
  • 72 votive candle holders
  • Paper and envelopes for 350 wedding invitations
  • 99% of my Christmas gifts
  • Wedding dress (without even trying it on – take that, annoying wedding-dress salespeople! No commission for you!)
  • A camera
  • Bridesmaids Gifts
  • A veil
  • Music
  • Travel toiletries organizer (for all my giant bottles of liquid shampoo . . . oh, wait)
  • Hotel accommodations

Thanks to the world wide web, I have also:

  • Planned a family out of town Christmas gathering
  • Tracked down family and friends to send wedding invitations to
  • Researched presidential candidates (could I still be anymore unsure?)
  • Had my life changed by google calendar and google documents (if the internet ever goes down my organizational capacity is screwed)
  • Had Christmas gifts wrapped, signed and delivered to out-of-town relatives

I love the internet.

I know we haven’t even made it past Christmas yet, but my New Year’s resolutions are to phase out using plastic shopping bags in favor canvas or fabric ones, and to replace all of the light bulbs in my house with those energy-efficient swirly kind. I’m still a poser, but I cheered this week when Al Gore chided the U.S. on its lack of commitment to fighting global warming (never thought I’d use “cheer” and “Al Gore” in the same sentence), and I can’t wait to ride my 1972 Shwinn with the huge basket to the grocery store from our new house. Baby steps. I don’t want my children to have to ask “Mommy, what were polar bears?”

One of the things that I dislike most about this time of year is all of the useless crap that appears in stores. A rotating neck-tie holder? Why sure, everyone needs one of those! It’s commercialism at its worst. Charlie Brown thought it was bad 50 years ago.



Apart from shunning the mall and shopping online, we’ve tried our hand at a few homemade, meaningful Christmas projects. I’m attempting to relearn how to crochet. I think I’m finally getting it, though it’s looking a lot like those blobbish squares I used to crochet as a kid. We tried our luck at making homemade, naturally scented candles the other night. There’s a small run-off of cinnamon-scented wax every time I turn on the stove to fry an egg now, but the candles turned out great. And eggs over easy aren’t so bad with a hint of cinnamon . . . I’m hoping to have an almost completely homemade Christmas next year. Curling up with a ball of yarn and cup of hot chocolate (from scratch and all-natural, of course) is much more pleasant than dodging Santa, stressed-out soccer moms and crying babies at the mall.

And now for the atrophying intellectual part. (You thought I forgot, didn’t you?)

My brain is starving. Why?

1) The public library requires three proofs of residence, a drivers’ license with current address (mine’s like three apartments ago), a DNA sample and your firstborn child before you can get a library card. And I can’t bring myself to actually purchase a book without at least two recommendations and a few notable book awards. Your assignment? Send me a list of your top 5 favorite books of all time. Or your top 5 favorite as of late. Oprah endorsement is optional (though apparently not without value, especially if you are an Illinois senator running for president).

2) The only things I’ve written lately are grant letters and alumni gathering invitations. The newspaper business ruined me, and I’ve forgotten how to journal. This blog is the highest concentration of words I’ve produced for pleasure since . . . wow, I have no idea.

3) Lack of stimulating discourse. Let’s face it, my co-workers are great, but they’re spending their days figuring out how to boost our endowment and pay for financial aid. A discussion of the finer points and theological implications of baptism or the merits of Madeline L’Engles narrative theory isn’t something that happens too often.

To summarize:

If you want to buy me the perfect a Christmas present, send books. Recycled (used) ones. That you’ve bought online.

Watermelon, feta, and butter lettuce salad with walnuts and white balsamic.  I love my CSA box.  And not the flippant, I-love-th...