It’s August, so time to start thinking about Christmas presents.
Yes, as they move the beach chairs and the suntan lotion out of the seasonal store aisles, they’re starting to fill them with plastic wreaths and blow-up Santas that use those noisy air compressors.
I would like to be the first one to declare my holiday wish list so you can make sure to find my gift in time.
This year, I have a simple need: real estate.
The market’s all hinky right now, so don’t buy me stocks, and I have more books than bookshelves, meaning they’re piled up on the floor of my living room.
You don’t know my clothing size so you can’t buy me any ugly sweaters – but real estate is One Size Fits All.
I was brought up to believe that giving people cash is somewhat tacky, though in her later years, that’s all my mom handed out.
Don’t assume that I won’t accept cash as a gift – I hate to be rude – but real estate unencumbered by any mortgages or trust deeds is definitely my preferred option.
Since we’re hopefully facing a big El Nino this winter, I’d appreciate it if your gift came with a sturdy roof. I had to replace the one on my house last year, and my heart hasn’t yet stopped palpitating over the cost.
This topic came to mind last weekend when I stopped at a store’s moving sale in Laguna Beach. As I was buying beautiful and (finest words in the English language) deeply discounted jewelry and trinkets, I started thinking about which items I wanted to set aside to give for Christmas.
Only women do this, apparently, according to scientific marketing studies. I have friends whose Christmas shopping is essentially completed by September because they buy on sale all year long.
However, in the history of the U.S. of A., only three men have ever done this, and it was probably because the only Christmas gift they planned to give was an engagement ring that they’d put on layaway.
Well, that’s not fair – occasionally a man will pick out a car to give to his partner in advance.
No man I’ve ever been with has done this, I’m deeply sorry to say, but all those Lexus commercials with the bows on top of the cars lead me to believe that someone, somewhere is doing this.
If real estate is out of the question, maybe because you don’t have time for the paperwork, then a new car would be acceptable this year as well.
Just don’t make it black. Black cars are only owned by urbanites who value style over practicality. Clearly, I’m not one of these, as evidenced by what I’m wearing right now.
They heat up like ovens even if you just leave them to run into 7-Eleven. You come back nanoseconds later, and the interior is 124 degrees. They show the dirt, meaning you have to actually wash your car, which would be impossible in my case. I gave up washing my car one year for Lent and never started again. And you can’t see them in the dark.
No one who’s ever lived in the desert or anywhere rural would ever own a black car, so make mine white, please. And with four doors, because my teens bicker enough in the car, I don’t need them arguing about getting into the back seat as well.
Still, if you’ve got a nice, shiny black vehicle and you want to give it to me, I would try hard not to be ungracious about it.
Lest you think I ponder nothing but my own upcoming gifts, I’ve already started thinking about what I could give my teenagers this year.
Nowadays, they want nothing but expensive electronics. Cheetah Boy is lobbying for a TV in his room, which I might finally fall for, considering he is actually in college now.
Last year, the only thing his sister requested was an annual pass to Knott’s Berry Farm, along with the new dining addition that offers two meals each day. This would have been a good idea, except that she’s gone to Knott’s exactly once all year, so that was the most expensive theme park ticket on record.
Personally, I’m considering getting each of them a vacuum cleaner and a cookbook. Then, I’ll wait to see what happens.
Meanwhile, if you’re hating on me right now for even bringing up the idea of Christmas, here’s a thought: It’s hot outside. Go to the beach.
That’ll shake off those winter blues. At least until you walk up to the department store to buy a new beach umbrella and see the giant snow globes out front.
Contact the writer: 714-796-7994 or mfisher@ocregister.com
