Gestures Big & Small

I always liked Christmas Eve best. Better than Christmas, better than New Year's Eve, better than any of the cold winter holidays. It was the anticipation, the excitement, my dad and I vying to be the first one to say, "Christmas Eve gift!" to each other, never mind that it didn't mean anything. My parents loved Christmas. My mother did the whole thing--the decorating with elaborate handmade decorations, the endless cookie baking, the shopping (I was a very spoiled only child). My dad would use half his vacation and take a couple weeks off, totally getting into the whole thing with her.

Christmas Day itself was always a let down after the huge flurry of gift-opening. You know, the crash after too much caffeine, when things were too quiet (it was almost always just the three of us, too far away from relatives to visit them when everyone else was visiting theirs) and it was all about food--and we were three non-foodies.

Anyway, so I still like Christmas Eve, even though we no longer do gifts, and we don't cook. Today will be about stitching--it's been snowing since yesterday afternoon, and I doubt I'm going to leave the house unless I brave the neighborhood to go take a walk--I *do* have a groovy pair of rubber boots I bought on clearance last year, back when it was kind of a joke because, really, Midland is in the middle of a drought, so who needs rubber boots, and--gee--it never snows enough here to need snow-worthy boots at all. But now I'm totally prepared for anything wet and icky out there, yay, me!

But no driving: people here are really scary on the roads when it rains or snows--so many have no clue about how to drive on wet pavement, and wrecks abound.

Anyway--here's one of the things making me happy today. You remember the huge stash of linens I bought and brought home and laundered and sorted, right? Days of linen prep:

 I had rather a lot of help with this endeavor.

The office studio was literally covered in stacks of vintage (aieeeeee! but true) linens.

I packed up a bunch of them and shipped them off last week, never expecting they'd arrive before Christmas--heck, I wasn't sure they'd arrive before New Year's, because the box was so heavy I told them to send it as cheaply as possible--even then it was over $30, just for super-cheap ground transport--but UPS totally rocks, and the box arrived in Brooklyn yesterday. I was amazed. Kudos to those guys in brown. Melly blogged about it here and here. Here's a photo I snagged from her post today:

[Don't worry: I enclosed a note telling her she's not expected to keep them all--to keep what she wants and can use and do whatever with the rest.]

It reminds me of two things. Once, long ago, someone who had a rubber stamp company asked me to pick what I wanted from their catalog. I loved everything and told them just to pick for me--that anything they sent would be a treat. When I opened the box, they had sent me one of each of everything. It was just amazing--I opened the box sitting in the car waiting for one of The EGE's football games to start--and I just sat there and thought, "So this is what it feels like to get everything you could imagine." To have not just enough, but more, more than you know what to do with. A surfeit. Plenty.

One year there were big teddy bears on sale for $5 at The Dreaded Wal-Mart--many, many years ago. These were largish bears, not small ones. And they were in a rainbow of colors. A friend had a young daughter, teddy-bear-aged, and we bought one of each color and packed them in a huge box and shipped them to her. It felt great. Never mind that they probably had to store or give away a bunch of them--unless she was just going to move out of her room and give it over to the rainbow of bears. Never mind that--it was just imagining that moment of her opening the box and seeing them all there, more than she could have wanted. More than she could have imagined. Just that one moment of going, "Wow. I have more than enough."

You don't often get a chance to do that, to make A Gesture, but you can find opportunities. It's not about spending a lot or money; it's about thinking what might wow someone. The biggest candy cane you can find. Letting someone play Eartha Kitt singing "Santa Baby" over and over and over and over without complaining that your ears are starting to bleed (thanks to The EGE for letting me indulge!). Making a trip to the library armed with their reading list and bringing home a stack of books they wanted and some they didn't even know about but will love, just they don't even have to get out of bed.

Another example? Years ago, The EGE and I cooked a turkey--a whole turkey. We were not turkey eaters even when we still ate meat, but we cooked that sucker. Hours of cooking. And then we spent I-don't-know-how-long picking all the meat from the bones (bleah) and treating our many, many cats to several days of fabulous feasting for the holidays. It was a lot of work, but they thoroughly enjoyed it. Worth every messy, greasy bit.

Grand gestures, all, and so much fun. More fun for you than for them, of course, but pretty fun for them, too. Maybe you want to make a list of ideas for your own adventures--it's worth the effort, it really is. Indulge. Have fun. XO