Move over, Mr. Grinch

I hate Christmas. Thanksgiving too. I have for years. That hasn’t always been the case, mind you. When I was a kid I loved Christmas as much as anybody, but something changed a few years back, and I’m not sure what it was. I told a friend last year that I would gladly give up a third of my life if I could just skip the last four months of each year. Give me January through August and I’m happy. Keep the rest of it.

So just before Christmas last year, I noticed one of my co-workers had a bunch of toys and other presents in her office. There was a bike parked in the hall. She was humming and playing with the toys, and she looked so damned happy. And I know she doesn’t have kids so I figured maybe these were for a nephew or something. Turns out she adopted an angel from the Salvation Army Angel Tree program. She set herself a budget and then spent a few weeks trying to see how much bang she could get for her buck while making sure this kid had a decent Christmas. She was quite proud of the bike she found (Wal-Mart) and the tennis shoes (new, from Ebay) and all the other stuff she found. Including all that damned happiness.

I promised her I would sign up with her this year. And on Tuesday, when our company announced the program again, she stopped by my desk to remind me. (Funny thing, though. I didn’t need the reminder at all.) So I’m buying for an 11 year old girl who wants a bike and a pink backpack. We have to turn in our donations by December 7. If you want to keep track of my progress, keep checking back here. I’ll let you know what I find for her.