Every Christmas gift was perfectly wrapped, when I was a child, mostly courtesy of Jean, my stepmother. Jean is really the queen of wrapping. I think she even wrapped some boxes one year and sold them at work. People actually bought them to put gifts in, they were so beautiful. Even if we were shipping something, everything was wrapped beautifully and then packaged into the box. To this day, she has more wrapping supplies than God* in her garage.
I've always loved wrapping presents, too. But anymore, I think that wrapping paper is kind of a waste. You only buy it to basically rip it up and throw it away. Lately, I've been trying to use recycled products to wrap gifts: old paper from presents I got from Jean (or other people, conceivably), paper that I get (ironically) for free from environmental organizations I donate to, or outdated maps. This gift has all three:
The map is 1997 Kansas. I think there's a detail of Topeka there, on top.
I'm fully expecting my Christmas gift from my husband to be wrapped in a National Geographic Map of the Ancient Middle East, because that's what I gave him to wrap it in.
I also have a different idea about the tree. When I was a kid, we would cut one down, usually, from a Christmas tree farm, and I just thought that was a blast, going to get the tree. So primitive. I got to watch some disgruntled adult use a saw and try to pretend he/she was having fun! It smelled great, too.
Of course, I can't do that now. I mean, why kill a damn tree every year? I guess it's just a crop, but whatever. I got this little live Norfolk Pine in a pot ten or more years ago at the grocery store. It's been growing, and growing, and growing...
I love this tree. The best part is, you don't have to get a tree every year. It's already there! It used to stand in the living room, but lately it migrated to the spare bedroom, to keep it out of harm's way. I sort of half-heartedly decorated it this year, but I still love it. It smells good all year, and its branches are so soft. I think it likes to be touched. I run my fingers over the pine needles, now and again. Yeah, I know. Tree hugger! That's me.
*Do I mean that God does not live in the garage, or do I mean that God does not have as much wrapping paper as Jean? I don't know. Both ideas have merit.
P.S. I don't know what happened to the title, there. Blogger did something, but I kind of like it. The original title sucked.