Queen of Diamonds

It is sad that as a child the holidays are anticipated the whole year long, and as an adult they are something to 'get through'. "Once the holidays are over," we say. Or, "Let's get through Christmas first," before embarking on a new adventure. It all relates to rampant consumerism and money, money, money, and, let's face it, sadness, loneliness, and the need for acceptance. I didn't buy a lot for people this Christmas. I made most of what I gave, but the few times I did venture out to get something I couldn't put together myself, I felt like people had gone insane. Bags laden with crap no one is going to use, people buying things just to mark a name off their list. It's sad. How many years in a row are you going to 'gift' grandma a bogo buy lotion from B&BW? Or slippers? I know this is what goes down because I cleaned out my mother's room when she passed and found a half dozen unopened fancy scented lotions from Christmases gone by, and a closet full of unworn slippers. And I admit that I was responsible for some of those purchases I found buried in her room. 

So what did I buy this year? 

Cigars and a humidor because I don't grow tobacco -- yet.

A gun case with locks because a shoebox is dangerous and stupid. 

Much-needed winter clothes because freezing to death at recess is never a good option. 

Everything else came from my hands, and this is because of my mother's passing in 2013. In her last month she gave as much of her things away as she could. Her last gift from me, on the day that she died, was a box of chocolate because I knew that anything else would not be welcome -- it would just be more crap to give away. When I came to her home after she had passed, I opened the box of chocolate I gave her that was sitting on the coffee table where she played hours and hours of solitaire, and found that she had eaten three pieces. And then she died. Right there on that coffee table, her raggedy worn cards beneath her. 

So, now that the holidays are over . . . .