Friday, November 18, 2011

Story of the Soap

This is the story of the soap.  One lowly bar of soap that has become quite the comedy.

You see, every year the Farmer and I attempt to make it to as many family Christmas celebrations as we can.  I say attempt because the number of celebrations is about 7, and that is outside of our immediate family's celebrations/gift-exchanging times.  And only 2 of those are from my family.  Too many? Yeah, I think so too.

We were attending our final family holiday get-together of the year at the Farmer's paternal grandparent's house.  After we enjoyed a nice meal of prime rib--living the good life and eating prime rib!!-we all sat around and stared at each other made small talk before the dreaded gift giving time.

Now, it's not that I hate gift-exchanging and the like, I just don't particularly enjoy it.  I personally like to give gifts to people of my own volition instead of feeling forced to give a gift due to some holiday or birthday.  Giving random gifts makes me happy; being stressed out over having a deadline to pick out the "perfect" gift makes me cranky.  And getting gifts?  Well, you see, I'm picky.  I don't like junk or clutter and I prefer useful things.  If you are going to get me junk I'd prefer to leave empty handed.  I know, I kind of put a damper on the whole Christmas-spirit thing.

The gift-opening had commenced and soon I was passed a small gift from the Farmer's grandmother.  I preceded to open said small gift quietly as to avoid drawing unwanted attention because it's hard to always fain excitement over these gifts.  I knew from past experience it might be something not note-worthy as old gifts included a holiday themed dish towel, although one year I did receive a bottle of lotion from Bath & Body Works.  Apparently she was feeling extra generous that year.  My gift unwrapping did garner the attention of the Farmer's step-mother Janice and his uncle Peter.  The suspense of opening the gift was killing everyone-NOT.  Underneath the wrapping paper I found a lone bar of soap.  And not just any bar of soap this one was apparently made by Nuns and it was especially pungent.  Janice was having a hard time containing her giggles and I believe Peter was just confused.

Of course, later the grandmother proceeded to tell me what was special about the soap.  I unwillingly said thanks so as not to seem ungrateful.

Later, back at the Farmer's parent's house, everyone was having a hoot over my soap debacle.  I concluded that the grandmother must think I smell bad.  Janice remarked that she kept wondering what Peter must have thought when I opened the gift.  The Farmer's step-sisters just laughed at my misfortune.

Needless to say, I left that soap at the Farmer's parent's.  And he informed me this weekend that the bar of soap is still in the downstairs shower.  No one will use it because it stinks and dries out your skin.

Apparently I am not the only one who remembers this story.  This Sunday while I was hanging out at the Farmer's, Hillary (step-sister) claims Whitney (another step-sister) has an early Christmas present for me.  (You might be able to see where this going, but I had no idea.)  Whitney surprised me with a small hotel soap. Very funny.  I'm beginning to believe I really do smell bad.

All in all, I shouldn't feel too bad because at the last Christmas, after having quite the discussion on the fact the the Farmer was moving for his new job and had just graduated from college and didn't have any money, his grandmother realized as we were leaving that they hadn't given him anything at all for Christmas.

In the end, his grandfather pulled out his wallet and gave him $50.  I kind of wish they had forgotten about getting me a gift.
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