I'm looking at my calendar (counting down the days until October is OVER) and I can feel the bogeyman of Christmas creeping up on me in the dark. While my feet are sticking out of the covers. I shouldn't have to tell you how much that freaks me out.

Every year, I stomp about the house and swear, "By Dog, I WILL get all my shopping done before December!" Mr. Clean usually follows it up with, "And you will NOT buy anything more after you are done!"

While the idea of money burning holes in my pockets is laughable, the ideas of buying Just. One. More. Thing. causes spontaneous combustion in my pants. And not the good kind. Umm... if there was a good kind. Just saying.

Basically, I have issues with the being "Done" part. Tis the season to release the shopping monster I keep hidden and on a constant IV drip of tranquilizers.

Mr. Clean is already walking around the house, holding his head as though it might explode and leave bits of brain matter on my nice couch. Always the pessimist! (which, while it goes nicely with my optimism for the most part, does not mesh well when shopping is involved) He'd rather there be no such thing as shopping. Or Christmas. Or families as huge as mine. Me? I say, "Well at least my parents stopped at four instead of having like EIGHT." And then I tell him to shut up and be thankful. Or I give him a big hug and tell him I'll be very frugal this year. That always makes him laugh.

Since I am addicted to making lists, I - of course - pulled out my trusty pen and notepad and made a list of people to lavish with our love and trendy gift wrap. Next, rough ideas. I made it to my sisters and froze. Of all us girls, Pixie is by far the best gift-giver. She's a natural. Me? I suck. Well, maybe I don't suck, exactly... but I always find my sisters are the most difficult to buy for. Shouldn't they be the easiest? They should!

I sat there, thinking and thinking... and then I smelled smoke and realized my brain was on fire. After drowning it with a nice Cappuccinno vodka, I realized I still couldn't even list the simplest of things - like which scent is their favorite? I know BabySis like vanilla (like me) and GypsyRose does NOT. She likes raspberry and fruity type things. I think. Pixie? I'm so ashamed. I have NO clue.

In my defense, I left home when she was just nine yrs. old and got married. Then, while I was raising babies, she ran off to the Navy and lived in Japan for four years! She got married before leaving the Navy and now lives on a beach 16 hours away. It's not like we go for coffee once a week and though we can chat for hours on the phone, I've never said, "Hey, what kind of scent makes your toes curl?" BabySis - who SHOULD know the answer to that (as she is just two years younger) - could only say, "Pear? I think?" She's still stuck in that phase where every response is posed as a question. It's great fun.

So. Last night I swallowed my pride, admitted I Must be a chronic navel gazer and sent a MeMe type email to each othem, begging for their faves. I figure if we each reply to all, we'll all have ideas for future birthdays and Christmas. And then I just have to deal with the other 20 people on my list.

AND a teenager who wants a sailboat. Yes! A Real honest to goodness sailing vessel that Works! And Carries People! (even if it's only two) He sent me a web address and a note that read: "It's only $6,000.00!" I sent him one back that read: "What? Do you think I have an entire ATM squirreled up my butt and that it shoots out free money every time I fart?"

His reply: "Eat more beans, Mom. Eat LOTS more beans."