Christmas shopping: Just say ‘slow’
December 2, 2010
By Pat Detmer
I hate shopping.
I know that statement might be hard for you to accept given my frequent comments on these pages about loving Bartell Drugs or about having a house chock full o’ stuff, but my trips to Bartell are for necessities only (plus the occasional frivolous bath oil and/or packaged nut purchase), and having a houseful of stuff has more to do with the number of years that we’ve lived here and not the quantity of items that we’ve purchased.
Allow me to illustrate how much I hate shopping:
Around the time that this paper arrives at your home, my two younger sisters and I will be at The Salish Lodge in Snoqualmie for our traditional pre-Christmas champagne breakfast. We’ve been doing this for more than 25 years. It began as my mother’s gift to us, and we’ve continued it since she passed away. After eating (and drinking) breakfast, we shop at The Country Store on the Salish premises.
Let me correct that: My mother and my sisters shopped. I, on the other hand, shifted my weight from leg to leg, sighed heavily and rolled my eyes as they handled every single useless holiday tchotchke on display, crawling through the place as if they’d been hired to do a meticulous inventory that was punishable by death if left incomplete. For years, I begged them to move faster, but I was outnumbered.
Then, my mother passed away and I seized the opportunity to install some anti-shopping controls on the tradition. In an attempt to hurry them up, I didn’t exchange gifts with them during breakfast — the usual scenario — but instead gave them each a certificate for $50 to be spent in The Country Store after we were done eating. But the catch was that they had to spend it all in 15 minutes. I considered it great sport, and stood at the checkout counter loudly marking the time: “Detmer Sisters: You now have eight minutes!” as they ran from potential purchase to potential purchase, foaming at the mouth and pushing innocent bystanders aside.
Later, as I gave them higher amounts to spend, I should have kept them at the same paltry 15 minutes — honestly, watching them in there, I could charge admission and make my money back! — but I think that I’ve softened in my old age. Now, we’re at $100 each, and I actually believe that last year I never bothered to apply a time limit.
And there, ladies and gentlemen, is proof that even Mount Rushmore will erode eventually.
Of course, I won’t tell you how many bottles of champagne it takes to soften me …
You can reach Pat Detmer — who has hopefully returned from shopping by now — at patdetmer@aol.com.
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