"You're not getting me a present, are you?"
"Nope, wasn't planning on it."
"Oh thank goodness. Not getting you anything either."
This is my new interpretation of the Christmas spirit.
MG texted me the other night; she wanted to drop off a "small giftie to tuck under the tree." This immediately elicited a flood of panic as I tore through my closets, looking for something to re-gift. I did pause briefly to consider my apartment - can a dying jade plant count as a Christmas tree? Maybe if I attach my tiara to it.
WC and I negotiated Christmas this year. After 20 years of diligently buying each other Christmas and birthday presents, we've run out of ideas. So for this Christmas (later this afternoon, actually), we will be spending equal amounts of money on ourselves at a spa, during which we won't actually see each other. But we will, afterwards, all limp-limbed and drooling after 3 hours of being pummeled and rubbed, have an early dinner together.
Two years ago, I spent Christmas by myself at the Banyan Tree Resort in Bangkok. It was a contemplative Christmas. Spent 8 hours in the spa, then ate mangosteens and drank wine with the bell boys in the lobby who tried their best to teach me dirty words in Thai. Well, that part of it wasn't so contemplative. But it was a test for myself, and one I think I passed. If you can keep laughing, then all is calm, all is bright. Wine and mangosteens don't hurt.