Because I Care-A-Lot

I had my first of seven finals today (two lab finals this week, five lecture finals next week). Now I prepare to enter crunch time. I surprisingly started off on the right foot and came home in a good mood. So good in fact that I decided to whipup one of the recipes that I had discovered in the cookbook the other night(side note Justin left the list with his drawing on it at Fred Meyer’s…awesome).

While interpretive dancing to Christmas music, I tirelessly slaved in front of the oven for just shy of two hours. You see Justin and I live the simple life; one pot, one pan, one room in our apartment, one bubble butt (his) and one whole lot of sexy dancing…you get the idea. Well this recipe required the pot to be used for four different things and the pan to be used for two different things. Long story short I got everything done in batches and the vegan lasagna was actually pretty damn good. Mushrooms, Spinach, basil, tomato sauce, sweet potatoes and a cauliflower “cheese sauce.”

Anyway the real reason I am writing this blog is because there is someone naughty on my Christmas list this year. I am obliged to get something for that person we will call them Mr. Satan (no it is not Justin---how dare you! lol). I was reflecting today on various gifts that I have given over the years. I was trying to devise a passive aggressive gift to give that is ho-hum. I was thinking back to the first Christmas where my sister, who is three years older than I am, and I decided to swap gifts. I must have been five or six years old but the memory is clear as day. She came up with the “rules” since she was older and smarter. They were as follows; “1. You can’t spend money since we don’t have any, 2. 

You can make something or give something of yours to the other person.”

In my young mind I mulled this over for weeks on end. A difficult task indeed- to give a Christmas gift. I had originally intended to share some chocolate from my advent calendar but unfortunately even then I was a chocolate feign. I ate every last bit of goodness by December 3^rd. I also thoroughly enjoyed each and every one of my toys and could not fathom parting with any of them. And even if I did part with one of them, what would the poor victim think who was chosen? It’d unequivocally be a suicide mission for said chosen one.

The days ticked by and soon Christmas Eve approached. My sister asked if I had my gift wrapped and ready to go. Of course I didn’t but that wasn’t for her to know for a Christmas miracle was on the horizon; I could just feel it. I ran down to my room and searched high and low. There in the corner sat one of the family dogs chewing on something; a mangled Care Bear plastic figurine. I felt so bad for the smashed and unrecognizable face of the plastic Care Bear, which now closely resembled Sloth from the Goonies I might add. It had once been carrying a bubbly soda with two straws in its cup. Such a thoughtful bear, who only had the intent of sharing his treat and instead was mauled to death. I then saw the remnants of the soda and scooped up the treasure. I hid the bear at once then wrapped the distorted soda in a piece of lined notebook paper as fast as I could. I ran upstairs and proudly placed my gift under the tree.

Fast forward to Christmas morning, we all sat opening our gifts. I cannot recall what it was I got from Maecee that year, but I will never forget her reaction as she opened my gift. Hindsight I am not sure why I was enthralled and excited for her to open that chewed up piece of shit, but my god was I ever. I was filled with warmth and gratification as she contemplated my terrible wrapping job. At long last she fully opened the packet.

“What is this?” She asked rolling the plastic soda in her hands.

“A soda!” I exclaimed brightly excitement bubbling over.

“From my Care Bear?” she inquired.

“Well, yes…” I replied.

“You weren’t supposed to give me something that was already mine! And this is chewed up!!” she exclaimed. “Where is the bear?”

I can’t recall the rest of the conversation, but I know that I may have lied about the whereabouts of Mr. Sloth. She forgave me that day as we played with our new toys and wondered together where Mr. Sloth could have possibly gone. It was a mystery for years. I actually did really lose him somewhere along the way. A tragic ending most assuredly but perhaps he found a place up there in Care-A-Lot. Or if Toy Story is real, perchance he is ruling the underground collection of forgotten toys with an evil vendetta.