Christmas

Santa is white and Christmas is about presents.  It is a birthday for Christ sake.

I find giving more satisfactory than receiving.  I give on a personal level earmarked by the following standards:

The present is something asked for like the flat screen tv I gave my son for Christmas. It can do everything but dance a jig and he has been talking about it since Boxing Day of last year.

The gift is something you know the recipient will love - my son loves my selections for him as my radar is never faulty.  My son's favorite color is bright orange.  This year in addition to the behemoth tv, I gave him a nike orange high tech emblazoned with logos (it can do anything) shirt, a nike orange running pull over made of the lushest fabric - just yummy, and expensive orange (I had to rob a bank to buy them) nike basketball socks.  All the presents were a huge hit and if he gets a job at a construction site, he is all set with a uniform. An additional bonus,  as a nike stock holder, my shares are through the roof.

I love the present I am giving -  this usually works unless one has horrible style and taste - not the case here as my style and taste are impeccable.

And finally, it's likely that I created one or more gifts.  Over the years my loved ones have received a plethora of photographs and photo books that invariably become doorstops.

To conclude, it should be noted that  other aspects are associated with the art of gift giving, only one of which I will touch upon here, and that is re-gifting.  Re-gifting is when some one gives a gift they
were given to someone else.  Re-gifting is a sensitive (some say insensitive) and touchy subject, often featured on chat shows,  as many people have strong opinions about the practice.

Although re-giving does not pass my smell test, I won't be judgmental when relaying my experiences with the odd gift that was once someone else's.  There is someone in my circle, who shall most definitely remain nameless, who became the pinnacle re-gifter when she gave me a birthday card that had been sent to her - with modicum effort she crossed out the persons name with a big X like an illiterate King signing his name.  This year for Christmas, she gave me the free wallet size diary that was given to her by American Express as a card holder. As I too carry Amex, the present was redundant. And - still no judgement - when in my presence, she gave her free desk size American Express diary to someone else in our circle, it was like the Cole Porter lyrics from a song made famous when crooned by Frank Sinatra, a kick in the head.