What’s on everyone’s mind these days?
How to say "I love you" with the correct gift.

I have a few people I want to give gifts to…a few hundred. My family is large and my friends are a sizeable group spread, well, all over the world. Just the thought of paying the postage makes my teeth hurt.
I went to the Goodwill store to find out if they had anything I could pass off as a classy gift… for CHEAP. I found a beautiful bauble for only $3 dollars, and the tag was in the sale color! Every day they have a different color sale, 50% off! My color matched! I love when that happens. I bought four delightful, pretty much new looking candleholders for friends and a vase for, for, for, okay...I’m going to keep it.
This happens to me so often when I go out shopping for others. I’m like a ten year old in a penny candy shop. I feel like I have ten dollars in my pocket and it’s burning a hole. Suddenly, the ten bucks flops out on the floor, and I have to spend it on..yours truly.
I try and hide my disgrace behind presents for other people, but well, that vase is so cute, so frilly, so intoxicating.
Yep, I really have to keep it for me; it’s a shame. I had intended to spend that $1.69 on a loved one, but darn it, I only thought about the shipping problems with such a delicate item after I paid for it. It would probably get broken.
The truth is, I was salivating over that vase from the moment I saw it. I’m a sucker for anything pink. But you shouldn’t feel too bad about my shameful expenditure. As I was pulling out my checkbook the girl behind the counter said, or should I say, shouted, “Uh, IS THIS ONE OF THEM SENIOR DISCOUNTS!”
"What?”
"ARE YOU A SENIOR? BECAUSE IT’S A BIG MESS TO FIGURE THIS OUT AFTA-WORDS. YOU PEOPLE NEVER TELL ME YOU ARE SENIORS TILL AFTA I GET IT ALL RUNG UP!”
"Huh? What do you mean?” I was confused. Did she actually think I was over 65?
"HONEY, ARE YOU A SENIOR CITIZEN? ARE YOU 65? OR OLDER?”
I put my head down on the counter.
"no,” I whispered dazed.
She began ringing up my purchases.
Another woman walked up to the counter and asked, “Are you okay?”
"no,” I whispered.
"Are you sick.”
"no.”
"Dizzy? What’s the matter?”
"I’m just trying to adjust to the fact that I’m being mistaken for a woman over 65.”

Heck, I just had my hair done? I thought I looked cute.
I looked down at my clothes. Okay, maybe all the fat women who are over 65 wearing sweats, sneakers and jingle bells come to GoodWill to shop. I’m just being lumped in their group. I looked up and saw my face in a mirror on the counter. I had forgotten to comb my hair. Lisa at the “Best Little HairHouse in Burbank” would have killed me. I still had a rooster doo, kind of flattened on one side, from when I woke up. It looked like I just pulled myself out of the dumpster.
I patted my head all over trying to look more like the posh entrepreneur I am.
I paid my check and slunk out to the car depressed.
Then it hit me. I should have taken the discount! It would have been even cheaper! She didn’t ask for ID.
I was still chuckling about this as I drove off to the cute little card store where I bought a finger puppet for, for, for…okay, it’s for me. It’s adorable. I paid the lady at the counter and we started talking about websites and Christmas and suddenly I was telling her about the shouting lady at the GoodWill store.
"Oh, my God, she thought you were 65? Really? Oh, that’s so awful. You should have hit her.”
We both were laughing.
"REALLY! That’s inexcusable. You’re about my age, right?…”
I went to shake my head “yes” thinking she does look around my age when in slow motion I saw her mouth say, “You’re…about….fifty…five…right?”
Stunned silence filled my head.

The car noises outside sounded like a woman screaming. Or was that me?
GUYS! I’m only 47! I’m just a baby!
Waaaaa!
Call the Waaaambulance!

She, she, she thought I was 55! I grabbed my bag and ran from the store thinking, I’m young. I look young, damn it!
I passed by a window that said, “RELAX.”
I stopped.
"RELAX THE BACK!” That’s what the store is called.
I walked inside thinking maybe I could find something for Glenn. His back is always hurting. My back was hurting something awful. It was filled with tension from being accused of looking another age entirely.
A rather tall, large looking salesman walked towards me and asked, “Can I help you?”
Uh, oh, this furniture looked way out of the GoodWill league. I better act as if I’m eccentric in my clothing purchases. I pulled my gray t-shirt down over my red flood-zone sweat pants and said, “I hope so. I want to find a gift for my husband. Do you have a chair that vibrates? My husband and I both complain of back problems.”
"Good!” he said.
I laughed.
"Uh, no, that didn’t sound right. I mean GOOD, you came to the right place. My name is Scott. How did you hurt your back?” he said more seriously.
I was so glad he asked. “In a surfing accident,” I smiled.
He nodded his head as if he believed me.
Ahh, he doesn’t think I’m too old to go surfing. This is a goood store, I thought as I sunk into the chair he pointed out.
"This chair here gives a wonderful massage,” he said and he started pressing buttons.
The cushions made a groaning sound against my back and buttocks like it was under cataclysmic duress.
"Can this machine withstand a lot of weight on it like this?” I asked him.
"Oh, yes, this is the top of the line,” he said, but his eyes looked like he was hoping the loud snoring noise it was making was not going to be followed by smoke.
"It has different settings,” he said, “and low heat.”
I lowered it and it softly purred as it pitty-patted my back with a warm glow. It was very soothing. I didn’t want to get up. The guy shifted on his feet watching me. Uh, oh, better act like I really intend to buy.
"What about those chairs over there?” I pointed to the front of the store.
He walked away, and I sat watching him.
"This is our best ergonomic chair. It supports the lumbar and coupled with a foot rest, it’s the healthiest experience for your back,” he yelled back at me.
"Mmmm, hmmm?” I said trying not to sigh too loudly. This massage thing was heaven.
"Come and try it,” he coaxed.
Oh, darn, I was going to have to move. I got up and sat in the chair he had talked about.
"Oh, wow! Oh, WOW! This is fantastic! This chair feels like totally comfortable. Hey! My back stopped hurting. Honest to God, right now, it just stopped hurting!”
I sat and talked plainly to the salesman. I was too relaxed to lie. “I have to tell you about Noel."
"You mean Christmas?"
"No, No-L, No M, No Moola, there is no way in "L" that I can afford these chairs right now. I don't have the money, but I might get some, you never know.”
"We’ll still be here,” he said sweetly.
They can wait that long?
So that was my cue. I had to get up and leave, but I felt like I had just been to the chiropractor. It was fantastic and he didn’t think I was too old or too poor to try his Hollywood Superstar income chairs. What a sweet guy.
I got home and Glenn walked in and asked me what I had done today.
"I got asked if I was a Senior Citizen at GoodWill. She thought I was over 65!” I whined.
I heard his intake of breath and then he rushed forward and put his arms around me, “Everyone in Hollywood looks thirty. All the senior citizens get plastic surgery. They probably ask everyone. They can’t tell the 30 year olds from the 80 year olds here.” He walked me to the sofa. “Relax…you sit here and pet Sparky, and I’ll go get dinner.”
Isn’t he the nicest husband?
Sigh, he is so ergonomic.

Well, now that I bought my vase and my puppet, I have no money to expend on the hundred’s of people I’d love to shower with gifts this Christmas. But I think everyone can benefit from just petting a cat. So here is my correct gift – Maukie. Who looks very much like Sparky. Remember, I didn’t make Maukie, the creator hasn’t fessed up, but I did share her with you. Click the link below to pet a cat.
http://home.wanadoo.nl/annekebroenink/maukie2.swf

Or if you can’t open a flash file, here is a picture of Sparky for you to meditate on. Imagine a contented purring noise which roughly translates to, "I love you guys!"

Merry Christmas, Carol

That's the lastest from LaLa land.
(Noone knows who the creator of Maukie is. You can go here to read about what is known about Maukie
http://home.wanadoo.nl/annekebroenink/maukieinfo.html .)

Email your comments to Carol Wood at Carol@hazelst.com