…Or A Machete
As the holiday season is approaching, I’ve been mentally planning out the gifts I’ll be giving my family and friends and bracing my bank account for the outcome. This year, especially, I wanted to start early to find small businesses to buy from and account for the delay in shipping. Earlier today, I sent my family a message asking if they had their Christmas lists yet, and only my dad responded. Fortunately, his list brought a much-needed moment of joy that I haven’t had much of this week.
His list was the following:
Vodka, sweats, or a machete.
Yeah, that was it. Three items that, with the inclusion of “or”, signified that he would be happy receiving just one of those. Now with a five-person family, that’s quite unlikely. But even as his daughter, who is used to the short lists and his preference for acts of service rather than material items, I did not see this coming.
If I were to judge someone’s character simply by their Christmas list, I would not match the aforementioned list with my dad. By the sounds of it, my dad is a tough, intimidating man who doesn’t care what anyone else thinks and will do whatever he wants without asking permission (I’m picturing a stereotypical New York dad who’s tough all around). And, to a degree, that’s true.
But my dad is also the one who sings goofily to pop songs and oldies, who cried when we cleaned the garage for Father’s Day this year, and who nurtures his little plant babies as though their his other children. My guess for a three-item list would have been kombucha bottles, some tool to help with his garden, and a clean house. Not vodka, sweats, or a machete.
Naturally, I took this exchange to Twitter. One friend responded “Honestly same” and another told me I better buy him the machete. I’m tempted. If I could take one guess to where I could buy a machete here, it would be Walmart. I’m not sure what he would use it for, but I’m hoping it’s more on the gardening side of things than the, uh, much worse side of things. Just kidding.
No matter what I end up getting him from this incredibly absurd Christmas list, I was very grateful for a moment of laughter during my day — it certainly took the stress off my mind for a minute.
And with that, I’ll leave you with my three-item Christmas list (that unfortunately isn’t as exciting):
A countertop compost bin, a Samia vinyl, and a gift card to Fred Meyer.
How would you judge my character?
