Sitting here waiting for the word to go out to the Perry Port of Entry to meet MyLarry in the big truck. He's carrying a huge load of steel, one of the largest the Pocatello plant has ever produced. I don't know if it is a single beam or not; I rather think it is. I am all packed, the Mrs. Santa dress is complete down to the floral headpiece. I do not have red socks, but I'll live. Cold and a rain-snow mix that is never pleasant.
My brother and I agreed we were not exchanging gifts this year unless it was token this and thats. His wife, my Insane SIL, called this past weekend with the kids' wish lists, and what she would like. HUH? I told her what had been agreed upon, but she brushed it off. She would like work clothes, size 3X. I am NOT buying clothes for her. She mentioned utensils and measuring cups, maybe, maybe. Then she wanted a gadget my brother wants; I do not have the time or money to find it online this last minute.
Then there's the kids. John is 21, but he's handicapped and lives in a group home. I have a coffee and snack basket done up for him. He bought a coffee maker and thinks it is cool. The other niece and nephew are 23 and 19. Uh, not exactly kids. They do get me things at their mother's urging, but they shop the dollar stores. I am underwhelmed. If I saw them other than at the holidays I'd be more charitable, but they don't make an effort to see me. So I am NOT going to buy a Wii game or gold earrings. Nope, nu-uh, no way. I will find a cool "guilt gift" at the truckstop for my brother; it will amuse him. That's what he calls the amazing array of shiny baubles and useless crap truckers buy for their families while on the road.
My brother does silverwork; he usually makes something for me each year. This year the SIL has the work room torn apart; he cannot get to his workbench. He's sad and so am I. "This is the last year I can realistically make things for people." We can pretend he's not dying because he feels good and is working, but there it is. Merry Fucking Christmas, SIL. She won't let us help, she wants a certain shade of paint and they can't afford it right now. Yes, there is some deep-seated resentment there. I want to rip her rose-colored glasses off her silly face ... and well, I should be more forgiving. But I'm not.
I'm going to Vegas to party with my hubby. I declare this holiday family obligation crud over and done.