I like to pride myself in being able to find the different gift items for the people I love. I don’t shop in the malls, but I seek out the self contained Drug stores where they have an independent buyer that must go to all of the gift shows, judging from the trinkets I usually find. I think this stems from my childhood, where the choices to shop, were Rexall Drugs, Nolans Drug store and West Coast Hardware. In the little town where I grew up, Main Street and Washington was and actually still is the main groove. The city would put up the giant tattered Christmas decorations that had seen better days even when I was a kid. If they still use them now, I’d be surprised, but not shocked. After all money allocated to Christmas decorations are only important or discussed when it’s the actual season. Both of the Drug stores were on Main Street and these were my locales of choice. Of course there were a couple of department stores, but ‘everybody’ shopped there and the chances of purchasing the same gift as someone else was greater. Those stores have long since disappeared and I am sure the drugs stores have gone as well. Some small towns don’t grow, they shrink as is the case of my own personal Hooterville.
I recall one year my dad gave ‘us girls’ five dollars apiece and we were allowed to ‘go to town’ and shop for the family. STOP!!!! This is also where I learned how to budget. Purchasing gifts for 8 family members is hard on $5 even if it is 1970. But we did it. I’m not saying the gifts were anything to write home about, or even blog about for that matter, because frankly I can’t recall a one. I am sure however that gap can be filled in by the miscellaneous brothers and sisters that read this blog. If they were crappy gifts and you were disappointed, I am truly apologetic, shall we move on?!
So the other day I found myself in a neighborhood that I had lived in when I first moved to Seattle some 19 years ago. I had frequented a particular drug store when I lived nearby and decided to pay it a visit. Nothing had changed, except for Mable behind the counter, she had put on a few years, but not me. I’m sure I still looked as thin and young as on my last visit….which may have been last year about this time. The store was crammed full of sparkles and twinkles and all things Santa. I found all sorts of groovy Christmas stuff, most I wouldn’t purchase but one that I did. I zeroed in what I found was the ultimate party pooper. The title alone was enough to urge me to purchase and this is where the fun begins. This was not so much a gift as it is something that will come out of the boxes of decorations that sit in the attic the rest of the year, purchased simply to put a grin on our faces for years to come. You see inside the package was a plastic sheep that poops jelly beans….and he’s cranky!
Something I find particularly entertaining are the instructions. I might be just a bit cranky too if someone ripped my head off, shoved jelly beans down my gullet and then pushed on my back to make them shoot out my pooter.
But what I really don’t get and didn’t notice until Sweet Husband pointed it out, was the sheep on the couch drinking martinis. The sheep on the floor…. was he passed out from partaking in one martini too many or the victim of a few extra large jelly beans. Party on!