Christmas ho

Giving the right gift is an art form. There’s something great about giving a present that makes someone happy – something that scratches that little itch they may not have known they had. Unless you’re giving them some sort of salve for an actual itch. But that’s not really a great gift.

Naturally, I love Christmas because it presents so many opportunities for finding the perfect present for the people in my life. Yes, much like everything else, I can even make gift giving a competition with myself.

My quest took me to the Galleria this weekend on my annual expedition to that mecca of over-indulgence. I like Origins, a store with a lot of new age hoodoo for the body. I specifically stopped in to find stuff for my mom (Mom – immediately forget that I said that), but I ended up also getting some anti-stress aromatherapy lotion for myself. Not that I’m stressed out or anything. But I did paint the bathroom trim at 11PM Friday night (see previous entries about my OCD issues).

A chick who works at Origins (at least, I HOPE she works there) offered to demonstrate the lotion for me. I told her I’d used it before. I know how to put some shit on my temples, so no demonstration necessary. She said, fairly forcefully,“That isn’t what I asked you. Put your bags down.” So I did. And she proceeded to give me a three or four minute rub down – all over my head, in my hair, my ears, neck, shoulders, back, arms. Asked if I’d been working out a lot (finally, someone noticed!) because she can sense the lactic acid in my arm muscles. What the? Anyway, it was a great massage, once I got over feeling weird about standing in the middle of a busy store while a sista with braids is up in my business. I almost felt like I should ask her for her number when she was through.

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