Friday, November 8, 2013

The Art of Extreme Celebration

Prairie Eydie is all about grace and that sort of stuff.  She sets a high bar, and I prefer to just crawl under it. It is November.  This is my birthday month, and for a person who celebrates each day of the year like it is her birthday ("Celebrate Every Day Like It is Your Birthday!" 7/24), I ramp it up a few notches for these 30 days.  My mother told me that I was suppose to be a Thanksgiving baby.  I arrived a couple of weeks early, and I have always figured that this month is all about me and being darn thankful that I am here.  

I recall a Christmas in the late 60's when my dad gave my mother an electric coffee urn for a gift.  It was a humongous electric coffee pot made for entertaining.  At the time it was a pretty common small appliance in many middle class homes.  I remember it being quite attractive, and probably practical since it seemed that my mother often had "the ladies" over for various reasons--bridge, church circle, bridge...    

My mother stopped talking to my dad for a couple of days after this gift was unwrapped, and when she did resume, I remember her saying to him, "Please, don't ever give me a gift with a cord again." Shortly after this Christmas, Mom returned to college and never played another game of bridge. 

I agree with my mother.  I do not want birthday gifts with cords.  If I need something attached to a cord, I will buy it for myself. Toasters, vacuums, blenders, waffle makers, crock pots--these are not gifts for a birthday or Christmas.  The only gift with a cord that I have truly appreciated is an electric drill my dear brother-in-law gave me many years ago.  It was like he entrusted me with something from the realm of "head-of-the-household", and he also gave me a couple of lessons so I wouldn't hurt myself.  Twenty-five years later, I still have that drill, I use it regularly, and I have never had to go to the ER because of it.  That was a more-than-an-OK-cord gift.  Lou, I thank you!

There are other things I do not want for my birthday.
No Precious Moments figurines, please.  Back in the early 80's, it seemed like many people felt that I needed these.  I never knew quite what to do with them.  I would try to scatter them about the house, but they always looked a bit awkward.  I still have one PM Christmas ornament that I dutifully put on my tree each year, but the rest of the collection ended up at Good Will.
 The "Willow Tree Collection" is also in this category. 

Decorative soaps.  I have been disappointed a number of times when I have opened up a box of these thinking that they were fine chocolates.  Does anyone ever use them?  Boy, do they collect dust!  And when you try to wash them to remove said dust, they turn into indistinguishable blobs of...soap.  Again, you can find mine at Good Will.
I am not a good recipient for anything that is pro-sports related, especially if it has anything to do with football, and in particular, Wisconsin pro football.  I don't get it.  The color scheme reminds me of a tractor.  Those cheese head hats do not cover the ears. They provide no warmth, therefore, they are useless.

For that matter, I hate hats of all kinds.  I wish I had enough techno-skill to photo-shop my face with this hat. You would instantly agree that a hat gift is really not for me.  Scarves?  Now that is another story...  

I am allergic to novelty underwear.

In a similar vein, "cute" slippers are never cute in a size 11.  These schnauzers would look like yetis on my feet.

I have always been glad that my birthday is in November.  Other than Thanksgiving, it is a rather bleak month.  I have this quirky tendency to think of days, months, and years in various colors. May is a pale blue, August a rich teal... November has always had this golden glow about it..  And the glow is at it's most intense right around the 16th.  Circle that date on your calendar.

But please don't wrap this up for my birthday gift.

Prairie Sherry


  1. You do know that one of those Cheesehead "hats" saved man's life in a plane crash- they are excellent helmets!
    My birthday is in May and I hate the smell of Lily of the Valley!

    1. Nonsense. If he was truly from Wisconsin, it wasn't the hat but the amount of alcohol in his system. Loose and relaxed means a better chance of survival.

  2. ps- when can I be exempt from typing in those crazy letters? Haven't I proved yet that I am not a terrorist?

    1. We are afraid of prairie terrorists. Buck
      up and type away.

  3. Prairie Sherry, You appear to be a synesthete--you categorize times of the year by color. Check it out on Sean Day's synesthesia website. Jill K from MAC.

  4. Crikey, I am going to have to return ALL your birthday gifts! ;)