Anxiety ran high as I drove to the mall tonight. I loathe Christmas shopping. I love giving, that's not the problem. I just hate the whole sickening circus atmosphere that retailers create to put you in the mood. It does anything but for me. Despite these misgivings, tonight's outing proved to be above bearable. I actually was kinda relaxed.
A big reason for this was the curious lack of crowds. Not sure if it was the weather, a surge in online shopping or simply my lucky night, but the mall seemed no more busy than a typical weeknight. It is to this relative lack of clamor that I attribute my success at finding, what I think, are some pretty swell gifts. Being in a relaxed state and not having to fight the urge to flee a giant crowd gave me time to really browse.
It also gave me time to think as I people watched. I know this probably falls under the heading of "Personal Problem", but I don't like crowds because I assume no one cares about anyone but themselves. Projection? Maybe, but I can't help but assume a little of the worst whenever I encounter a stranger. Surely there was a time in our nation's history when fellow citizens we didn't know enjoyed more benefit of the doubt. Maybe not. But I found that weighing on my mind as I waited for the clerk at Piercing Pagoda to explain to a confused customer that she really did get the 50% off the extra pendant she bought.
I felt sorry for both the customer and the girl attempting to explain. The customer spoke very broken English and the girl was doing her best to remain courteous. For a second I actually entertained the notion of helping, as if I was some kind of Kissinger of Consumer Affairs and would be able to broker a deal. Plus I just wanted to get some ladybug earings for one of my nieces and move on. See, just looking out for me. I was projecting earlier. Huh. Projecting. Brt.
I finished off the shopping expedition with a stop at Borders. While there I bought a few things for myself: the 50th anniversary edition of National Review, a paperback edition of The Martian Chronicles and a nifty LED mini-reading lamp. I've always wanted to read The Martian Chronicles 1.) because I loved Fahrenheit 451 2.) have been lucky enough to see Ray Bradbury in person and 3.) my only recollection or experience with the story was the TV mini-series from my childhood. I'm sure Martin (McKee, not the Martian) would be able to give me the particulars on that third point.
Right now, I'm enjoying that Dutch delight Ketel and it's two best accoutrements, tonic and a twist of lime. All this while lounging in my jammies and listening to the A Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack. That's a great CD if you don't have it. For me it brings back so many memories of childhood anticipation at this time of year. Of soft glowing lights on the tree that I could see from bedroom door. Of clear, full moon nights with luminescent snow. Of everything that this time of year is supposed to be about.
Anyway, here's to Christmas. I know, a lazy tie-in to the title, but the Ketel's kickin in and its about time for a long winter's nap. Peace on Earth my friends and God bless us every one.
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3 comments:
THE MARTIAN CHRONICLES is on DVD, if you really want to relive it. I watched it when it first aired, all six hours of it. I remember it as pretty slow-going, but you don't often see idea-based science fiction on American TV, especially today. I wouldn't mind giving it another shot, but not in one sitting.
Somewhere I have a large book titled THE BEST OF RAY BRADBURY that I "lifted" from the Farmer City-Mansfield High School library. I haven't cracked open that thing in a long time.
Bust out the popcorn! 6 hours? That's almost like going to see King Kong.
Well, without commercials, it's probably closer to 4 1/2.
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