For all of you who complain about the materialism of Christmas, I present to you Gary. Gary doesn't buy materials. He shows his love. A well-placed gift is love. As for Jesus, every day is Jesus Day.
That said, I shall now detail the gifts exchanged.
From Gary I got a Scooba, to replace the beloved Scooba that literally ate shit and died.
Gary got a Gatsby assortment of Daniel Cremeuix shirts, all of which miraculously fit.
He also got caffiene-infused root beer, which was despised, and a higher-tech mouse, which was met by puzzlement, and the Blu-ray version of The Music Man. (This years ornament? A trombone. Seventy-six would have swamped the tree.)
My brother Dave got an interactive Tribble and Significant Debt Forgiveness.
Wilma got a variety of items, and the best-received was the assortment of finishing salts. We licked our pinkies and sampled various salts like coke fiends.
Ken got a camera designed to take photos of birds fluttering around his feeders. "Oh, that is MINE," Karen insisted, and humorously appropriated it. So, that was one gift appreciated by multiple family members.
There were also cat cameras, to be hung on semi-wild cats and neurotic dogs. I hope Wilma does leave the house and come back to minute-by-minute photos of Tinkerbell sleeping on the couch. I hope Karen doesn't find that her stray cats like playing chicken with the cars on the interstate.
Karen got bonus presents, because the microwave slippers were UPSed along with someone else's package of rechargeable gloves and socks. I called the company and they just sent more gloves and socks to the intended recipient.
Mr. Wonderful got a re-giftable gift, a giant Dora Clownfish that would be good for his granddaughter. Karen did not get the companion flying shark, since each evidently takes three hours to assemble and I ran out of time.
We had thought Mr. Wonderful would like a turntable, but we called his wife and we were shot down. "No room! He doesn't want that." He got the turntable anyway. "Oh, that's just the one he wanted!" Kind of mystifying.
Gary got some chocolate-covered jellybeans and the soon-to-be-played Glee Kareoke. My gifts were all bathroom-related: a bathmat thoughtfully selected to match my back bath, and foot scrubbers which I really need, and then the gift of gifts, the gift I did not appreciate at the time but the full weight and import has hit me now, they gave me candles.
Is that not love? Is that not LOVE? Pyrophobic Karen trusts me enough to give me candles. Or it's anothor bathroom gift because she thinks my poop smells, which is entirely true as well.