With each day, the outsourcing of who’s-buying-what-for-whom became as tangled as the wad of six strands of Christmas lights that we’d hastily tossed into a garbage bag the previous year.
On Christmas Day, all of us truly were surprised when we unwrapped our gifts. My sister got a cookbook featuring blessed recipes for church suppers, my husband got a sweater that makes him look like a pregnant pilgrim, and my mother got a re-gifted wheelbarrow. The kids ended up with a nice wad of cash.
Excerpted from a piece by Marti Attoun, in the Chicago Tribune, December 23
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