Perhaps, like me, you’re finding the mall especially trying lately. Maybe it’s that my family had a recession-friendly homemade Christmas in 2009 or maybe it’s because I now have a breastfed infant to accompany me, but the shopping trips I’ve made during the last few weeks have turned me into a sweat-soaked, cuss-word-using, stroller-ramming fanatic. Our visit for the annual Christmas photo happened to fall on Pet Day and the woman in front of us spent half an hour and more than $100 on many, many photos of her dog with Santa. Afterwards, I felt like spray-painting anti-consumerist slogans on mailboxes….except I didn’t have any paint and the craft store was at the other end of the mall. ‘Tis the season for none of the elevators to work and a shopping cart to be abandoned in the last parking space and for the exact Zhu Zhu Pet you need to be sold out when you’re not even sure what a Zhu Zhu Pet is. (Here.) On Monday evening, as my children looked on with alarm, I collapsed into an incredibly rare seat in the food court and vowed with a grimace: Enough. Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me. I will go home to make a donation to MSF/Doctors Without Borders, warble along festively with Yoko Ono and spray on something beautiful that I already own.
In truth, I love this time of year and the smells I associate with it: pine, mandarin oranges, mulling spices, incense, smoke, peppermint, wet wool, candle wax, lemon and brandy sauces, latkes or donuts frying in oil…
