Because I like to show the turkey a little love

Before I even begin I feel like we all need to have a moment of silence because yesterday the Oxford Dictionary officially added “selfie” as a word.

Welcome to our future, America. A world where we’re in debt to China beyond all reason but it’s all good as long as we document ourselves pulling through the Sonic drive-through to get a Route 44 Diet Coke.

Personally, I would have chosen “champipple” to become a real word. The champagne cocktail favored by Fred Sanford. But, like most things, no one asked for my opinion.

And while I’m giving opinions no one has asked for, here’s another one. Dear Stores of America, you need to settle down about Christmas. It’s going to happen. December 25th comes every year and Americans will open their wallets eventually to buy all manner of Christmas gifts. But can we please have a minute to just enjoy the holiday of the turkey?

I felt it the day after Halloween when our neighborhood shopping center immediately had two giant Christmas trees flanking the entrance and green and red garland everywhere. And I knew it when Gulley ran into Santa Claus at HEB on November 9th and had to tell him to go back to the North Pole. But I really noticed it yesterday when I was out running errands.

My first stop was Target. And, granted, I brought it upon myself since I willingly walked to the back of the store to look at all their Christmas decorations. In my defense, it was only because I know they’ll be out of all the good stuff by Black Friday and I wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything I couldn’t live without.

(There wasn’t. Although they did have some really cute stockings.)

And then I ran in several other stores that were all playing Christmas music. Which, fine. I enjoy the Christmas music but it was 92 degrees here yesterday and so I kind of felt like Frank Sinatra was mocking me as he sang “Let it Snow”.

But the killer was when I ran in Michael’s to look for some paint for a project Caroline is working on. Here’s what I need to know. Who decided that the overwhelming scent of fake cinnamon is the official fragrance of Christmas? I became so carried away with the sheer amount of decorations and disoriented from my faux cinnamon smell induced headache that I almost put two light up reindeer with moving heads in my cart before I came to my senses and remembered that P and Caroline would probably just use them for target practice.

I ended up leaving without buying anything because I was in desperate need of fresh air. And that’s when I walked over to Whole Foods and saw a whole selection of live Christmas trees for sale. Did I mention it was 92 degrees yesterday? All those things are going to be good for by mid-December is firewood.

And even poor Santa was already sitting in his Santa house. In a red velvet suit. No one wants to sit on Santa’s lap when he stinks from sweating in his Santa suit all day.

And here’s the thing. I love Christmas. That chunk of time between Thanksgiving and Christmas brings me some of my happiest memories every year. But it’s also nice to take a deep breath that doesn’t smell of manufactured cinnamon and think about turkey and dressing and cranberries and broccoli rice casserole and all the things we have to be thankful for without being interrupted by a giant light-up Santa that says “Ho, ho, ho”.

It’s a marathon, Santa Claus. Not a sprint.

And I’ll be ready for you. A week from Friday.