Socks in Box - But Not a Sock's Box at Longe Christmas

Jessica, my son's girlfriend received the first gift to open at our family Christmas Eve celebration after we toasted with Veuve Clicquot bubbly. Immediately a question of where it was made in France arose but the answer wasn't on the bottle. Though out of sequence for the usual festivities, I handed her a package and told her that the answer would be found there. As she ripped off the first revealing strip of wrapping paper, her voice rose with excitement, "we have our own bottle!"

"In this household," I reminded her, "Don't ever trust a box." She found a nice pair of Smart Wool socks in the pretty orange box. The answer wasn't on the box, either.

We returned to the usual progression of events, first up - stockings. I'm pretty much the stocking keeper for our family. As adults we all contribute. I stuff my contribution that follows tradition of a little candy, maybe peanuts and small silly or practical items. This year two stockings had measuring spoons I'd picked up at a trade show in the original "Innovate IT" packaging, a peanut butter and chocolate bar for Alex, dark chocolate caramel's for Karen hair bands for Jess and other stuff I'd found and stashed over the year. When Jess and Alex arrived, he saw the stockings, told me not to look as he added to them. When Karen arrived, she told us not to peek and added more. Though no ritual for opening, we pretty much go round the room, watching one person at a time take something out and commenting. Two salts from Iceland were the first items I found - over the years I've realized it's good to have a world traveling stocking-stuffer family members.


Alex found a 3" rubber chicken. Not from me, obviously it came from his Aunt Karen, also the Icelandic traveler. She and I howled as she relayed the story of the big rubber chicken she'd given Alex in 96 or '97 when he was eleven or twelve years old. For years it was passed back and forth showing up at each other's birthdays, always at Christmas and best, inbetween the sheets, hanging by the neck in a closet or in one of their suitcases. The chicken went missing, probably in moves since college. The replica was a good digestive laugh to remember that silliness.

Gift giving in our family is a wonderful expression of tradition and  humor... like the  socks and the rubber chicken. As I get older, I hope Alex will soak this up and carry the silly traditions that our parents shared with us and came from their parents.  

With Alex in grad school now and his finances tight I'd covered the cost of some items he needed in the name of Christmas. He didn't  have the usual bounty of packages. Though, he opened a Dom Perignom box (it has buttons to unlock it!) where he found a bag of dried fruit and nuts with a note Remember the suit. Silly.

At one point, I ripped the paper off a DVD tax prep program from Alex. He seems to find thoughtful, practical gifts that relate to things we've talked about. "Look at it, Mom." Socks fell out. I'd fallen for my own joke. He does pay attention. They were especially funny Rosie the Riveter socks - not the usual muscle showing Rosie, more... well, an Italian arm gesture sock, that he'd found at the Sock Magic in Santa Fe. The socks in DVD cloaking also brought down the house with extra stories of our tradition of visits to places he's studied... France and Argentina his junior year of college and this year New Mexico while completing an investment bank internship. The photo shows Karen and Alex in front of the Sock Magic store.

Our champagne turned to espresso as we wound down to the end of the gifts. My last one was a fabulous set of plein air watercolor brushes the length of pencils that makes them perfect for tucking into a purse or pocket. Like I said, Alex finds the perfect presents. I just have to remember his diabolical side that he seemed to learn from me.

Karen opened her last gift, wrapped with ribbon and elegant white sparkly paper. Inside, protected by sheets of matching white tissue, the original rubber chicken from Alex. Still smiling from Christmas Eve.

ps. Veuve Clicquot is made in Reims France.