These Simple Thoughts are brought to you by me.

Today I wrapped Christmas presents. I like tape, colorful paper, and folding. It made me and my hands very happy.

I will relate my Sunday experiences to you, and then you can tell me what it means.

Tale One: This morning, my children participated in our church's Christmas program. It's been a rather hurried and disorganized ordeal - practice the last three Sundays, this past Wednesday, yesterday morning, and then early this morning. I personally have not witnessed these practices, but Brent recounts tales of headache-worthy chaos.

So, this morning was the real deal. Imagine thirty children running around in various states of biblical dress. Harried teachers are herding the youngsters to and from their places in the pews, and a hassled-looking director is attempting to issue instructions, while trying to locate a missing Wise Men costume. I think my children are listening, but it's hard to say, especially since Kirby is playing with her shepherd's crook and Elliot has run back to me to retrieve his "Where's Waldo?" picture book.

The program itself is a H.A.L.O radio broadcast with various skits to depict the events leading up to, and directly involving, the birth of Jesus. You readers, who know me so well, understand how this theme is already chafing me. I am watching my children participate in a play where the main premise is the Christmastime birth of Jesus Christ...an event I believe is a lie. However, it's not about me. It's about the children. It's about the Reason for the Season.

Honestly, it should have been about the people in the audience. It was boring; I wanted to fall asleep. It was hard to understand many of the kids, and some of the adults. They talked too fast or too soft or they didn't enunciate. The skits were disjointed; in the end, I just didn't get it. I know it's about the magnificence about Jesus's birth...but the "reason for the season" just didn't permeate my bones. In fact, I was more grouchy and tired after the program. To be honest, I felt preached at in the sneaky manner of cute kids in robes, but I don't think my children understood the real meaning of what they'd just performed. It was a "nice try, but not quite" type of effort.

Tale Two: A few members of my family and my mother attended the Community Symphony and Choir Christmas Concert later on in the day. Twelve bucks and two hours filled me with more holiday spirit than that earlier hour and a half. Members of the community and high school choirs and orchestras played/sang some wonderful music, and several times throughout the program, I wistfully regretted not having some kind of musical talent. But not only that, the music allowed me to contemplate and feel general goodwill towards the people around me. I felt more peaceful and loving, because there I was, sitting with people I love, enjoying an experience that filled me with a sublime contentment. There was no hidden agenda behind tonight's musical program, just a chance to listen, reflect, and welcome whatever thoughts come.

I'm sure you'll guess fairly quickly which tale was more meaningful for me.

Yes, it was another rousing evening of Dungeons and Dragons last night at our home. This would prove to be an interesting session as our junior DM cancelled on us the day before. Supposedly he's studying for finals and all that...but, you know, whatever. Youth. The rest of us were down in the mouth for about 3.6 seconds until it occurred to us that yes, we were adults, and we were capable of playing without him.

So, on the spur of the moment, Mrs. Jones decided to DM for us (bless her little Taoist heart). We had not played this adventure for many months, but the party was as follows:

Me - Gnome Cleric (I really do see dead people)
Brent - Half-Orc Barbarian (Intelligence = 7 = idiot with axe)
Mr. Jones - Half-elf Monk (The true Fist of Fury)
Kimba - Elf Fighter (who is also a pyromaniac)

The adventure starts off with a little catch-up. We're in a dungeon, fighting some ghouls. I find a canvas bag filled with some goodies, including a belt, bracers, a traveler's outfit, boots, and a pretty blue necklace. I swipe the necklace, which I learn later is an amulet of cold resistance. Yes, I now can go hang out in Siberia! The barbarian attempts to tie the rope belt around his waist...but suddenly, the monk experiences a revelation and expresses his desire to the half-orc to have the belt. And the half-orc just *gives* it to him. No questions asked. Turns out the belt is a sweet monk's belt and the motto for the next several minutes becomes "Fear the Belt." The fighter expresses a secret desire to set it on fire. The barbarian opts to wear the boots.

This dungeon was fraught with dangerous traps, as the barbarian (named Boof) found out. A failed Reflex save on a coffin opening set off an arrow trap, piercing Boof a couple of times. Then the guy rolls a one on a Search check of the coffin, setting off the trap again. Boof claims the traps are biting him and steps away.

One of the most hilarious episodes of the evening occurred when the gnome set off a pit trap filled with spikes. The gnome (Lola), the fighter (Rana), and the barbarian all fall in and take damage. The monk avoids this fiasco because he's lighting a lamp or something. Probably admiring his belt.

The party proceeds then to spend about three hours attempting to get out of the pit. The monk (named Qui) has a length of rope, but it's too short to reach to the bottom. Lola attempts to stand on Boof's shoulders, jump, grab the rope and climb out...failing about three Balance checks and a Jump check. She soon decides to sit and memorize an Air Walk spell, which will allow someone to simply walk out of the pit.

Meanwhile, Rana and Boof make several acrobatic attempts to grab the rope during this time. When Lola comes out of her memorizing trance, she suggests to the monk that he should tie his belt to the rope to add a bit more length. She is greeted by a long silence. Before long, it appears the rope has indeed lengthened, making it more reachable. The members in the pit hear the puzzling words, "Send the gnome!" Rana responds by standing on Boof's shoulders and tying her length of rope to the existing length of rope. The monk feels the weight and begins to pull up...to find more rope. He yells "I said send the gnome, you sent more rope!" At that point, the light bulb visibly switches on in his head, and he passes the rope back down. Right at that very moment, the barbarian emerges out of the pit, as if he's walking on air. A very confusing moment for the monk, I can tell you. He was expecting a little three-foot gnome on the end of that rope, when all of a sudden, a six-foot half-orc barbarian arises out of the pit, walking on air.

Other various exciting moments included trying to set doors on fire, the barbarian catching on fire, fighting a ghast who sits on a dirt throne, and spending various rounds either paralyzed or deafened. Not to mention Boof has a new affinity for spitting on things.

The amazing discovery of the night was learning Boof was, in fact, wearing Winged Boots. He leapt back over the pit on the way out like it was nothing...information which would have been helpful SEVERAL HOURS AGO.

The final confrontation was with the town sheriff, who the party discovers is a corrupt bastard. Turns out the ghouls captured him awhile back and turned him loose, with the stipulation that they'd pay him money to bring them the fresh meat of the townspeople every so often. The sheriff didn't reveal this at first, it was learned after some intense cross-questioning by the monk.

In the end, we were pretty much kicked out of the town, and not really welcomed back. Nobody believed the monk when he claimed the sheriff was "selling people for food." The monk's Lawful Neutral alignment simply could not allow him to let go of that fact, and finally, the monk became very, very insistent about it - and freaked most people out, because HE SAID IT TO EVERYBODY. The sheriff, after having this phrase thrown in his face three dozen times, seemed to reach his boiling point when the monk said, threateningly, "You lied to me, Timmy." The monk then repeated his favorite words a couple of more times.

The Recap:

Number of things spit on: 5
Number of times "You sold people for food!" said: 124
Number of half-hour sidetracked Out-of-Game discussions: 2 (one about theology, one about Christmas presents)
Number of times the cleric's holy symbol of chocolate prayer hands was useful: 1 out of 2
Number of items doused in oil: 5
Number of items actually lit on fire: 3
Number of minutes spent laughing at monk, who kept saying "You sold people for food!": 33

So, OK, we got our reward, but I don't think we're going to be showing our faces in this town again for the awhile.

What adventure did you have yesterday?

My husband just destroyed any and all credibility he has around here.

Remember how I sung his praises because he and I are on the same Christmas wavelength? Well, in a matter of minutes this morning, he annihilated it all.

There are two very nice Gymboree outfits hanging in my boys' closet. These outfits were back-to-school clothes from Brent's mom. She hits the sales every summer and gets them clothes every year. Now, these were long-sleeved outfits, so I tucked them back in the closet, to be used later.

Well, the later has come. About a month ago, I sifted back through packed-away winter clothes and filled the closet with last year's ensembles. There were plenty of those items, so the never-worn Gymboree outfits remained unworn.

Until this morning. See, a Peer Helper class here at school is doing a school-wide clothing and toy drive. They'll take new and gently used items for needy kids in the community. Guess what I thought of?

I got them out this morning to bring them in. The ensuing conversation went something like this...

Me: So, I'm going to take these to school for the clothing drive.

Brent: Wait. Those are the clothes my mom bought for the boys.

Me: Yeah, but they're just hanging in the closet. The boys have plenty of other clothes. They're not wearing these.

Brent: Yeah, but my mom bought those.

Me: OK, but they're not wearing them! (Raised voice)

Brent: Why can't we just give something away that we've bought for them to wear?

At this point, I leave the house, because a.) there's nothing else I can contribute to this ridiculous conversation. b.) I'm actually running late anyway.

Is this asinine, or am I hallucinating? My mother-in-law is not one to periodically check to see if the grandkids are wearing clothes she bought. If my boys aren't wearing them, aren't I justified in donating them for a good cause? I have no personal vendetta against my mother-in-law.

My husband needs to let the Gymboree go.

For a long time, I have struggled with this time of year...especially when it comes to presents.

I would not call myself a shopaholic, but I enjoy a nice, brisk trip to the mall. It's also important to me to purchase gifts for people that they truly enjoy and appreciate. This means I have to know, rather well, the person I'm shopping for. During my first year of teaching, I participated in the annual Christmas Secret Santa gift exchange. Well, I detested it because I felt like I wasn't a very thoughtful gift-giver and that I, too often, came up with a mediocre gift at the last minute. It occurred to me later that it may not have been so much that; it might have been that I didn't really know the person I was shopping for, and thus, resorted to the standard, generic gifts of food. So...that was my first and last year of doing that.

Since my children were old enough to "get" presents and Christmas, I have trying (without much luck) to reduce the gluttony. I was able to persuade my parents to cut down, and within a year or two after my youngest child's birth, Brent and I had altogether stopped receiving gifts from my parents, and my children were at about three or four a piece. AND IT WAS GOOD. We'd hang out, play games, eat food...but the center of our day was not unwrapping boxes and untwisting wires on all the various Fisher-Price sets.

Brent's parents (namely MIL), however, are a different breed of cat. Joyce loves to shop, loves to give, and has the money to spend. Sooo...every year, their tree practically needs its own zip code. Since my FIL has retired recently, she claims the gifts this year will be reduced...but what is "reduced" to her is not "reduced" to you and me. I try to explain my feelings to her every year, and I am usually met with a passive kind of acquiescence. Bottom line, she loves giving, and I've come to the conclusion that it's not my place to limit that. That's what my Doctor-in-Law does, for cripes sake. Her boys have specific brands and kinds of toys they want, so Joyce never buys them anything without a list from their Mom (seriously - a whole other post).

This year, I've decided on a different approach, and surprisingly, Brent is on board. We are super-streamlining gifts this year. Here's the change.

Previous Years:

1. With our help, kids all shopped for each other (each kid received two presents from siblings). Maximum amount spent was $20. No requirements on what type of gift.

2. Kids received four gifts from us. Clothes, something they needed, something they wanted, and something educational.

That still sounds simple, right? Well, it's getting harder every year. There is also room for a lot of interpretation - what is "need?" Couldn't clothes be a need? Anyway, this year is the simplest yet.

Now:

1. Kids draw names (each kid buys for ONE of their sibs). Maximum amount spent is $30. No requirement on what type of gift.

2. They still get one set of clothes from Mom and Dad. However, instead of receiving three more gifts beyond this, they will receive just one. However, this one gift is a bit more of a purchase...like around the $30-$40 dollar range. It's something they really will like, as opposed to something we're trying to force on them. Also, another stipulation is the "big" gift must be something creative, educational, or physical. A stack of DVDs doesn't cut it. For example, my nine-year-old son really loves his Wii. So this year, he's getting an outfit, and two video games. One of the games is that "Big Brain Academy" and another word/learning game. Why deny getting him what he really wants? He likes video games - I might as well embrace it and get him games that will stimulate his mind.

The reasoning behind all this is to ensure my kids will truly have something they want come Christmas Day instead of piles of so-so stuff that ends up in the bottom of the toy box two weeks later. And, I don't care if my kids think I'm a Grinch about Christmas presents. They're getting enough from others, anyway...and I don't see that as my job - plying my kids with games and toys. I'm not going to buy their love!

So, call me a Scrooge if you will. There's more to this holiday than Elmo Live or Playskool Busy Ball Popper or Giddyup N' Go Pony or Webkinz or the Damned Disco Dancin Wubbzy. BAH!