Tuesday, Dec. 28, 2004 - 5:01 P.M.

When you are young you have the feeling of not only invincibility but also possibility. Meaning, even though you feel pretty certain you can�t design clothing, you think it�s at least possible that by some miracle you�ll wake up one morning Donna Karan�s nearest competition. I think that as you get older you reach a point in your life where you are perfectly happy with who you are. You�re capable of knowing what things you do well and what you need to stay the hell away from so as not to cause a disaster of epic proportion (Colin Farrell, Oliver Stone? I�m looking at you). And, most importantly, you�re totally at ease with this knowledge.

For instance I can not sing. Not even a little bit. I mean, when I�m in my car? I�m Whitney Houston, baby! Without Bobby (gladly), the rocks and blunts (sadly), the sweat (gratefully) and the bus rear-ending (thankfully). Long ago a friend told me I sounded like Sheena Easton. I was carried along for a while in life by that--the notion that I could sing really well. After being told that I just belted. out. whenever I was around people thinking I must sound great! As I got older and reality arrived I knew I sounded way more Yoko Ono than Sheena Easton. That is, assuming you think Sheena sounds good. If not? Then I sound like Sheena. Only worse. Do y�all even know who Sheena Easton is? Sugar Walls?

I�ve learned something else, I�ve known it all along and after this holiday season and at 35 years of age I must now embrace it---despite all of my mother�s best efforts I am an absolutely horrible gift wrapper. My mother was an excellent gift wrapper. Not only did all the edges and corners of the wrapping paper meet and match perfectly, she topped off each wrapping job with an intricately woven ribbon (sometimes one woven by her. Herself! She HANDMADE ribbon, people! I can�t compete with that!) and a small trinket picked specifically for that person tied to the elaborate ribbon with even more elaborate ribbon�you know what? Forget it; she was a master that�s what you need to know. I'm not even a junior apprentice. My gifts look as if I wrapped them blindfolded, with only one hand (which was possibly a hook) while on the run from rabid snowmen. It really is that bad. It�s a joke in our family--the extremely poorly wrapped presents are either from the cat or me. And, as I�m sure you�ve guessed, the cat can�t wrap.

So this year I moved almost entirely to holiday bags and decorative tins and occasional buckets and jaunty seasonal boxes. Though I found out that you still have the artfully arranged tissue paper issue. Which I�m no good at either. Present wrapping is an art. It desires a marriage of creativity and manual dexterity that I simply do not possess.

But, I can break out a Sheena Easton tune if you�d like�

You Give Me Fervor - Friday, Feb. 17, 2006
Revamped Sex Camp - Thursday, Jan. 26, 2006
I'm Not Dead - Tuesday, Jan. 10, 2006
Ebert And Roeper? Watch Your Backs. - Tuesday, Nov. 29, 2005
Coffee? Tea? Map? - Monday, Nov. 07, 2005

� Purplecigar

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