Holiday shopping figured out

I'm a bit of a nut when it comes to Christmas/Chanukkah shopping. 

I'm a nut -- not because of my Black Friday deal hunting, coupon clipping or even excessive spending (though I do a little of that every now and then) -- I'm a nut because of how early I do it. September, October and early November are my months for shopping. I've given myself fake deadlines to finish -- and they're fabulous. In my family, I've become notorious for my early shopping. I think a few people hate me for it. But I love it.

For the past two years, I have been done with all of my shopping the week after Thanksgiving. The reason it's so late is because my family picks names for a Secret Santa exchange on Thanksgiving and I have to make sure I don't forget to give a little love that way. But the bulk of my holiday shopping is complete by turkey day.

It's a grand plan and one that I'm going to share. With just a little planning, it puts you in a beautiful place to actually ENJOY THE FREAKING HOLIDAYS. 

How? You work in a no-pressure situation, with a better selection in stores and online and you are not sharing the store with crowds of angry folks with sobbing children.

I avoid the pressure in two ways: I go early, of course, but I also have employed a pretty slick trick (if I do say so myself) that has served me very well through the past couple of years. I was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people I was shopping for that I decided to write everyone down and keep track of what I'd purchased (for budgeting and sanity and fairness). As the list developed, I began writing down things that friends and family said they liked and would love to one day have. (These days, if I'm shopping with someone and they mention something they like or enjoy doing, it goes into the file.) That means, when I'm shopping early, it's so easy to pick something out because you've gotten a personal blessing and know it will be well-received. I sometimes keep the file, in part, in my phone, and then dump it into the email file later. It's so efficient that it makes you feel like you've actually accomplished peace in the world -- or just in your Type A soul...for a few minutes.

Better selection also abounds in these months of early shopping. You get the sales from the summer. This is particularly wonderful if you've got athletes on your list. The summer stuff -- shorts, shirts, runner gear, yoga gear, golf gear -- all goes on sale in mid- to late September. You also get the first picks on the holiday merch they're hiding on the edge of your consciousness in side shelves and far-corner areas. It's also pretty nice when you stop thinking about the lack of perfect boots you were looking for, and focus on the expanse of options waiting to be plucked for your loved ones. You get to pick from a variety of scented candles like Gardenia Mountain and Lakeshore Spa instead of ones you find at the end of the season with names like Burnt Popcorn and Uncle Aggie's Special Sweat Stain. It's a no-brainer, loves.

You avoid the crowds. There are some people that thrive on pack shopping. I'm not one of those huntresses. I have to really scrutinize my purchases. I like quality goods and it's so easy to get duped these days -- ever heard of "leather-like product" or "contains leatherette"? I have -- and I almost missed the tiny lettering that said it, but didn't because I was really looking. And to really look, you need time and space to analyze your purchase. I sometimes shop with trusted friends for their opinion, but I'm not often a habitant of the doorbuster den for my biggest purchases. You end up spending way too much money on subpar items because you're running out of time and often feel peer pressure to buy. It's just not worth it for me. 

However, I know there are virtues to shopping the Black Friday sales and deals and bundled packages. I'm just not that into it. I much prefer the peace I feel and freedom that comes when you actually get to ditch the stores and experience the chill in the air and the lights and the beauty of being together with your loved ones. And as for those gifts, I'm really charmed by them three times: once in the store, again after I wrap them having forgotten what I'd purchased, and then, finally, when the recipient gets to open it. 

And I have time to do other things I really enjoy -- like write Christmas cards, see the 5^th Avenue windows, just relax in the warm apartment or work off the turkey I'm having tomorrow with a swim or run. I know I posted this too late for this year, but seriously, think about trying it out for next year. This process makes things SO MUCH BETTER. You get things done timely fashion, hopefully get what people want because you have choices, and don't drive yourself nuts doing it in a crowded store. There is a better way. I hope, for your sake, you try it out.

Sandy: A lot like grief

In New York, tired is a way of living. But it's usually a weariness of mind that you come to accept and shake off every few months with a trip to the suburbs or a less frenetic city.

The tiredness I have now is nothing like that. It feels a lot like grief. My city's buses and trains are moving, but so much else is still on the outside edges -- in tatters and hurting. Things here will not be a type of normal for many people for a very long time. And I know it, but sometimes I forget for a while, and then it washes over me again. Grief. 

I feel blessed to know what my neighbors in Staten Island and Far Rockaway and New Jersey are going through from my work experience over the past week, but guilty for dusting off my boots, taking a shower and settling into clean sheets in a warm bed to watch "South Park."

I have nothing to grieve for. Rich and I were so lucky in so many ways. Lucky we lived in a high place, unaffected by the storm. Lucky we have electricity. Lucky we have heat. Lucky we have employers that accommodated us. Lucky we had each other. Lucky we're alive.

I want to stress this. So many others were not so lucky. So many. I've been in the news business long enough to know how quickly the images become a blur. The houses. The garbage. The crying children and mothers and wandering, lost pets. The stacks of supplies. You've probably seen it all, and you're already sick of hearing about it.

But let me tell you something now. This is Amanda, your friend or relative or casual acquaintance. I've never seen anything like what I saw on Staten Island in the United States. It looked like a Third World country on the brink of breaking down. Have you seen this? The news coverage is beginning to turn away from this reality. It's the way of things, I know. Other things. The election. Back to the Upper West Side toddler murders. Remember those? You'll be swayed to turn away from the devastation. "Anything but Sandy." I get it.

But let me assure you, people will still be in need. I thank everyone who offered us assistance (there were many people!) Thank God I didn't need it. But there are so many that do. I was in a young couple's basement tearing out their walls. Their home was less than 15 years old. An elderly couple was too frail to come down and help our team as we hacked away at the saturated drywall in their basement bathroom they renovated just last year. Through it all, I thought over and over how easily the young couple could have been Rich and I, the other residents there -- my grandparents. What toll would that take on me? Would I be on the next plane to help my family? People are reacting as I hope I would, working to exhaustion on their homes and driving through garbage piles to help their loved ones.

But really, things aren't going to be all right for quite a while. Think about donating to someone.

And just a little P.S. -- A couple of things I learned about my city in the storm's aftermath:

1.  There are good people here. 

My cabbie picked me up and drove me through a maze of dead skyscrapers to get me to work. He nursed his cab to my workplace, running on fumes to get me to my destination. He has regularly waited hours on line to get gas. He has three kids and is currently looking into getting his mortgage payment adjusted because he couldn't work when his cab ran out of gas. He apologized profusely that he couldn't take me to work every day after Sandy. 

       

      2. This is a dramatic, beautiful place. 

NYC is lacking a mountain, in my opinion. It can be loud. It's manic. But it can be other things, too. It's devastating in its beauty -- and its quiet. I took the East River Ferry one day home from work. For two hours, I took in the gray skies and gray tides and iron skyline. I couldn't stop watching. Another day, I walked across the cold Manhattan Bridge in the light rain and stared between the fences and concrete slats at the rushing brown water below. I didn't breathe. It's not my typical standard of beauty. That's usually green and blue and bright. But New York's dark and melancholy and beaten look has its draw. Lucky that, because most of us are taking on that allure these days.