The Giving. The Getting. The Possible...Goating

            As my beloved will attest, the Christmas season—specifically, the time spent in the mall searching for gifts for those who have everything—brings out the worst in me. So this fall, in an attempt to minimize Grinchiness, I stated I would not be buying “stuff” for the sake of giving “stuff”. I requested lists of suggestions from my immediate family and vowed to stick to my new mantra: None of us needs more Stuff!!!

            There has been almost universal adoption of my plan but for one very notable exception. (Can you guess who?) The kids dutifully emailed very detailed lists—things that I would never have thought of even if I knew they existed. I started a list for myself and encouraged my husband to do the same. Weeks passed. I forced myself into the mall, rewarding myself on my return with liberal quantities of fruitcake and/or wine. And I was making good progress on the lists. I re-discovered my good friend Amazon and my feet and credit card thanked me.

            One night after dinner I pointed out how very mellow I was this shopping season. (Wine does help.) And I mentioned, somewhat more forcefully, that if he didn’t come up with some suggestions for me and the kids I was going to buy a goat with his name on it for a poor African family. That made him put down his paper and, in the manner perfected by old men everywhere, look over his glasses. “I do not want a goat!” And he was back to his paper.

            I had posted my list on the fridge. And under his name: “Anything but a goat. (Feel free to add suggestions.)” Nothing was ever added. That upped the ante. What had been a good-natured attempt to jolly him into "helping" me at Christmas threatened to turn into a nasty skirmish that could taint the ubiquitous good will supposedly endemic to the season. I took a deep breath and vowed to not succumb to my poisonous thoughts.  

            Meanwhile friends and family have had great fun with this stand-off. One suggested I go all out and spring for a water buffalo—after all it is not a goat. My mother, whose building’s maintenance man runs an animal-rescue operation on the side, said maybe she could line up a goat from him. We could tie it to the bumper of my husband's truck for a real Christmas morning surprise. My brother assured me he would be willing to tend to the herd should we decide to travel this winter. And on it goes.

            Ho hum. As the shopping season winds (or grinds?) to a close, one more trip to the city looms. I will continue to remind myself that this is the season to be charitable--and there will be Stuff for him under the tree. But I just can’t help whining to myself that he already has enough Stuff. Pass the whine, er, wine.

           And, of course, there will be Christmas again next year. I already have my list ready: One Goat--and Wine. Merry-Minimum-Stuff-Christmas to all.