Something possessed us to head off to the “Holiday Market” at the State Fairgrounds this afternoon. I was deathly afraid that this event would be akin to a Greens Show, which I’ve worked hard at avoiding my entire life. But Laurel assured me that it was sponsored by the Salem Saturday Market—so likely would be more artsy-craftsy than cutesy-decorationsy.
Actually it was a bit of each. We wandered around in our usual holiday spirit. Meaning, each of us looked for stuff that we wanted for ourselves. We do give some gifts to other people, but we also believe in the adage, “Giving starts at home.” That is, from me to me and from Laurel to Laurel.
This makes Christmas shopping within the Hines household so much easier. For the past few weeks Laurel has been handing me boxes and bags filled with things she has bought for herself, which I then squirrel away until it’s time for my Christmas Eve wrapping frenzy.
And the same goes for me. Naturally I do my best to forget about what I’ve given myself. This would be easier if, every time I walk into our extra bedroom, I didn’t see a corner of the cordless chainsaw case that arrived by UPS yesterday sticking out from under the desk where Laurel has half-heartedly hidden it.
At the Holiday Market I soon saw some cute potential presents for me and Serena. They were practicing their synchronized napping postures at a Humane Society adoption booth. I said to Laurel, “Wouldn’t it make you feel relaxed when you looked at them sleeping on our couch?” But Laurel, the allergic grinch, replied, “No, I’d feel like my nose was stopped up.”
Laurel looked at all sorts of dichroic glass jewelry and other petite items. She then decided that she wanted the absolutely heaviest thing for sale in the Jackman-Long building. Well, make that the second heaviest thing, as Silver Creek Statuary had an even larger concrete bench displayed. Laurel likes to have contemplative sitting spots scattered around our property. This will be an unrottable addition to our current wooden seats.
The Silver Creek Statuary folks kindly lent us a hand truck to cart our purchase out to the Prius. Serena wasn’t at all happy to find that she was going to be riding home with concrete rather than cats. I didn’t realize that dogs’ eyes turn blue when they are thinking of leaping at your throat and growling, “Get back inside that damn building and adopt those cats!” I also didn’t realize that dogs had remote viewing powers.
Now I have to figure out how to wrap three humungously heavy pieces of concrete and get them under our Christmas tree. I predict there are going to be some presents that Laurel won’t be picking up, shaking, and saying to herself, “Now, I wonder what this could be?” Unless she starts taking steroids.