I love the smell of Christmas. And I'm not talking the spices. I love the smell of Christmas beetles on a balmy Summer evening. I love the almost aching sound of cicadas chirping shrilly in the trees.
It's so close to Christmas. It's achingly close. It's giddy up close. And I have still got gifts to buy.
In particular, I find men very difficult to buy for. My husband is a case in point. I give him something, he says great thanks, and then a few months later I find him sneaking it out of the house to the charity bin. I know you're probably saying, at least it's going to a receptive home, but you know, it peeves me. I always give gifts with the line: if you don't like it, I'm very, very happy for you to return it (unless it's handmade by me) and get something you do dig.
Otherwise - *POOF* - I might as well have thrown cash into the wind.
My Dad is another hard-to-buy-for.
This afternoon I've been conjuring up an aromatic Christmas in the kitchen, baking my first ever batch of gingerbread. All those spices. It's beginning to smell a lot like Christmas.
PS - Have posted the Kimya Dawson CDs out to the winners today!