Those Happy, Horrible Holidays
Well, here it is, folks. The final exam of housewifery. The Grand Championship of Giving and the Pillsbury Bake-Off all rolled into one. The holiday season is upon us! Are you cute? Organized? Thrifty? Creative? Then you’re probably not reading this. This column is for the rest of us. The brave, the proud, the many—the ones who Just Don’t Get It. The ones who’s genetic makeup does not include the ability to distinguish the color “lightly brown” through the heat waves and can’t decide why anyone ever thought it up—and so are destined to never make cookies that don’t taste like homemade charcoal. The ones who can’t ever visualize a complete meal and so always forget something critical—like turkey or the dressing, or the gravy or the plates. The ones who can’t make neat square corners on packages and never think of anything more original than Scotch Tape to decorate with, and so every year, give presents that look like wads of wrapping paper that rattle when shaken. The ones for whom the