Regifting: Tacky or thrifty?

Regifting: Is it tacky or thrifty? Many of us are currently facing this dilemma. It’s one of the drawbacks of Christmas. The gift-giving is done, so now what do we do with the stuff? In my little house, it’s tough enough to find room for the things I love, let alone the things that I don’t love so much.

Now I know a lot of my family and friends read this column, so let me first say good job guys. I can’t think of a single gift this year I wanted to throw out my car window on the drive home. But other years, I haven’t been so lucky. One year, I had a sweater that sat in the plastic wrapping for a year and a half before I finally wore it. And then, it was worn to feed calves. It was a good sweater, and I’m sure it wasn’t cheap. But, it just wasn’t my color or style. I didn’t have the receipt and the tags were off already, so I didn’t know which store it came from.

Although I can’t recall any specific regifting incidents, I’ve been tempted. In case you are, too, I’ve done a little research into the subject. Etiquette experts disagree on regifting. Some say it is bad form, but others say the focus shouldn’t be on the gift but what it represents. If someone could get more pleasure or use out of the item, why not give it to them? However, one must be extremely cautious while regifting. Nothing could be more embarrassing than giving the gift back to the original giver. At least keep track of who gave it to you. Better yet, send the gift to someone who couldn’t possibly see the original gifter. You wouldn’t want your sister opening a gift from your mother right in front of her. Out of state is the best place for regifts.

Regifts must be re-wrapped as well. Ripped and re-taped wrapping paper is tacky. You’d hate to have the target of regifting find a gift tag with a name other than their own on it. If the guilt is too much to handle, be honest. I received several nice sweaters for Christmas last year. Unfortunately, I outgrew them before I could really use them. They are now the property of my skinny sisters. “Here you go,” I told them. “I’m too fat for these now.” That maneuver killed two birds. They stopped taking up space in my closet and they will get worn before they go out of style.

Handmade and one of a kind items should not be regifted under any circumstances. Some things, like the snowman made from a sock courtesy of your mother-in-law, you will just have to grit your teeth and bear each holiday season until you can get the dog to chew it up.

If you suspect you have been a target of regifting, it’s polite not to say anything. If you dare to regift, you must be ready to accept the consequences. Some things just beg to be regifted, but all in good fun. Champagne and fruit cake are good examples. I also have a feeling someone in this office will receive a giant bucket of Play-Doh in our next gift exchange.

But remember, regifting does have its limits. So please, if something really is hideous, put it where it belongs: eBay.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Finally married!!

Well, it’s Tuesday night once again. Like usual I’m short on time. It’s no wonder that happens so often, especially this time of year. After I get done writing, I’m heading to my seventh (and hopefully final) Christmas program of the year. It might as well be Christmas day, because it doesn’t look like I’ll have much time to complete my cards or wrap presents. Nate and I leave Friday night for my parents. Then Christmas morning, we’ll pack up and head back north for the Eckert family Christmas.

Speaking of that, it will be my first Christmas as a full-fledged Eckert. You may have noticed the name change above. It’s no mistake, and I have not been placed in the witness protection program. Despite a lack of free time in this season, Nate and I finally got around to tying the knot. It was a very small, very simple ceremony. And, in Wisconsin tradition, we visited a tavern afterward.

I really don’t feel any different. Nothing has really changed significantly, except we’re now legally bound to one another. If it hadn’t of been for the not so subtle hints from our friends and family, we’d probably still be unwed. It takes time and money to plan a wedding, something we don’t really have an abundance of. That happens when employed in the agriculture and/or newspaper industries. But we’re finally sharing a last name, so now the real work begins.

First is all the name changing. I’ve started keeping a list of all the things I need to change my name on. From utility bills to credit cards to places in this newspaper, you don’t realize how many places your name is until you need to change every single place. Nate certainly got off easy in this area.

I also have to re-learn how to sign my name. So far, I’ve only had to sign it once on our marriage certificate. I stumbled and bumbled over it. I think the capital “E” is what trips me up. The surname just does not flow well into cursive. But I could be a lot worse off for last names. I’ve seen quite a few names of the eastern European variety with lots of letters but few consonants. At least this one’s easy to spell, but not so common as Nelson. Unless you happen to live in the Goodrich area.

Because we made it simple, there’s a lot of things we missed out on. We spent our wedding night at our respective jobs: me at a meeting and Nate milking cows. Then we honeymooned in the town of Medford. But we also missed out on some rather unpleasant aspects of a big traditional wedding, like clutter and fighting. As we were leaving after being married, our friend, Dana, who was married last spring, leaned over and said, “That was the most stress free wedding I’ve ever seen.” That’s the effect we were going for.

So now it’s time for more Christmas music. I’ll leave you with my favorite marriage quote I’ve found so far. This one’s for you, Nate: “I love being married. It’s so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life.”--Rita Rudner.

Goodbye Floyd :(

Until recently, I always considered myself more of a dog person. But living in rented homes with no furry friends for the past five years has changed my mind. I would much rather have a cat for a pet than a dog. You may remember I wrote a column petitioning for a pet last spring. I still don’t have one. Instead I have Nate and Jake, which is actually a lot like having a pet. It seems like all I do is feed and clean up after those two. Every week, I seek Clark County’s pet of the week ad and I have to suppress the urge to go rescue whatever cute critter they feature that week.

But I’ve maintained self control. A big reason for that is Floyd, a barn cat. Floyd is actually more Nate’s cat than mine. Floyd (a.k.a. Stanley Floyd) lived in the barn with the milk cows. Unlike many other barn cats, especially toms, he was very friendly and very spoiled. Floyd arrived on the Eckert farm by accident. A neighbor called and told them one of their cats was there. When they picked him up, they found a friendly black and white kitten. He really wasn’t theirs, but they agreed to take him until someone claimed him. No one ever did.

It’s a sad fact, but many cats, especially males, get dumped in the country. People get a cute kitten in the spring, and by fall, they’ve grown out of the cute stage. They don’t want to pay to get them neutered so they dump them off. Farmers often take pity on these abandoned creatures, like Nate and his dad did. However, my guess is many freeze, get hit on the road, or become some coyote’s easy snack.

Whoever dumped off Floyd should know they missed out on the neatest cat I’ve ever met. As he got older, he grew and grew, a result of the fresh whole milk he drank twice a day. He turned out to be a monster of a cat and was king of the barn, as other toms found out when they attempted to invade.

Floyd also had a unique method of catching birds. He would climb up into the rafters of a shed and wait for them to land on the ridge opening. He would then spring up and snatch some unsuspecting sparrow from the air. Although some toms turn mean, Floyd was unique. He loved to nuzzle and be petted. Sometimes we would come into the barn to find him wet and sticky because he would let a cow lick him. Floyd was also a little helper and would follow people up and down the barn as they did chores. This fall, Floyd adopted three fuzzy kittens. It was quite a sight to see the fur balls following him around the mangers like a mother goose and her goslings. Nate and Floyd had a special bond. They would carry on “conversations.” He always claimed Floyd could say his ABCs. I just thought it was amusing to hear a 25-year-old man meow.

Unfortunately Floyd is no longer with us. His curiosity got the better of him Monday when he climbed up under a truck and rode it out the driveway. He tried to jump as it started down the road, and that was the end of poor Floyd. Nate is heartbroken, and I’m pretty down about it, too. I’d like to find Nate a kitten for his upcoming birthday, but I don’t think we’ll ever find another Floyd.

Yay for kiddie Christmas programs (12/7 column)

***This was our "Without Words" photo in our op/ed pages this week. Cute, huh?

There’s a lot to enjoy during the holiday season: lights, food, music, decorations, family time, shopping, etc. But at the same time, there’s a lot to dread: winter driving, crowded parking lots, family spats, shopping, etc. So much stress is dedicated to this one time of year. Nothing embodies the combination of good and evil in the holidays better than the school Christmas program.

For the kids, preparation begins months in advance, nearly as soon as school starts. And they better like music since that is pretty much the whole show. Then the school staff gets involved. There’s making programs, setting up chairs, and putting up enough decorations to make the tired old gym sparkle just for one night.

Preparation is often a time-consuming task for the parents as well. It means more shopping, and an outfit to buy before Christmas. Unfortunately, in the child’s eyes, the Christmas program outfit does not count as a present. It’s a separate line in the family budget. It could take a while, but once the perfect outfit is located, the work is finished until the big night. After the child squirms through a hair style, it’s time for the clothes. Dressing a child in one of these fancy outfits definitely is not a solo task. It requires a team effort to work though all the buttons, zippers and bows.

Then there’s the matter of getting there. Even if there’s no snow or ice to battle, parking is a challenge in itself. It’s funny how everyone believes there is an open parking spot close to the door. Somehow they miss that everyone else is leaving the area to look else where. After circling fruitlessly for 15 minutes, there are two choices: park illegally or far away. I hope most choose the latter. If not, I hope there is a cop and tow truck nearby. Nothing is more annoying than being parked in by someone who chose to invent their own spot.

If a parent is lucky enough to get a seat on the chairs or bleachers, the seating will rival the comfort of an airplane seat on a commuter jet. Except, the Christmas program seat has one third the leg room. But be grateful. Those running late will stand.
By this point, one might wonder why parents even bother after a year or two of this holiday fiasco. Some might even swear they’re not coming back as they struggle to move their elbows without jabbing a neighbor.

But then the kids step on stage, and the result is magic. Innocent voices singing carols melts away all the anxiety and soon parents are lost in the pure world of a child’s Christmas. For an hour or so, we forget the hassle it took to get them there and just appreciate how nice they look and how their voices sweeten the air. The magic will fade after it is over as parents fight traffic to get out of the lot they fought to get into. But it’s enough to last until the next concert.

Those who say Christmas is too commercialized, too hectic, too stressful and barely worth celebrating should take in a children’s concert this season. Hey, it worked for me.