As we face the promise of a brand new year, I prefer not to look forward with optimism, but to reflect bitterly upon what 2011 brought to me – or specifically, what others brought to me.
You may remember the giant centipede incident from this past summer. Alas, this Christmas was yet another example of family gift-giving gone very, very wrong.
Here is a box I received from my mother on Christmas morning.
What could be inside?
I carefully opened the blue tissue paper, and beheld these:
Someone, somewhere, once considered these saltshakers a tasteful addition to the table.
There is more to this gift than meets the eye. In fact, a particular feature of these shakers is what compelled my mother to purchase them for me.
For many years, my feet have been the laughingstock of the family. Apparently, my big toes point skyward to an alarming degree. Now, even if my feet are as freakish as my parents would have me believe, I have always said that their amusement is unfair because who but they were responsible for the genes that shaped my feet? It must be owned that these salt-shakers are not the first foot figurines of this style that I have been given.
Readers, forgive me if what follows is too much for your delicate sensibilities. But I want to know, once and for all – are these gifts of pointy-toed foot figurines justified?
In my mother’s defense, she also gifted me some really nice new linens, several excellent books, aquarium supplies, the new Jane Eyre film on DVD, chocolate-covered pretzels, and purple yoga pants.