Holiday Hangover

To the people who think it’s cool to hate the holidays, it’s not. I don’t even hate the commercialism (who doesn’t love a fancy department store all donned in holiday décor?)—just the gladiator-like materialism. I have never shopped on Black Friday and never will (except online) as there is nothing I want badly enough to need full body armor. The kind of items people shop for on Bloody Friday are those they buy for themselves anyway. I’ll stick to smaller and more thoughtful, predominately handmade gifts.

My brother, who is as cynical as Greg Gutfeld (and just as unsentimental), was visibly touched when I gave him a framed picture of him and his girlfriend (that I’d lifted off his Facebook profile) and had printed at Walgreens. Except for my husband (who got three pairs of Levi jeans), everyone else got homemade or more personalized gifts.

My parents (and my grandmother, on a smaller scale) got framed portraits and my cousin, a couple of books shipped directly to Poplar Bluff, Missouri from (one cent plus $3.99 shipping).

My friends all received homemade goodies (a tin of handmade truffles or a cherry Coca-Cola cake with dark chocolate ganache (made with cherry brandy) and sprinkled with crushed almonds (I love amaretto). I also gifted some personal care products I had couponed.

I now wish I had pictures to add because I read somewhere that photos and videos add interest to a blog, but I’ll get to that later. I guess to be a successful blogger, one not only must be a writer but a photographer.

One thing at a time.

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