So this weekend Craig and I attended our group Christmas party, usually held in mid-January so as not to cause anyone offense and avoid the holiday chaos. The highlight of the evening is the white-elephant gift exchange, something I am sure everyone is familiar with. This is the second year we attended the event, so I was privy to the knowledge that in the ‘adult’ world you do not bring a stuffed bison head or a purse made of kangaroo scrotum or hemorrhoid cream- a few articles that showed up at the last white elephant party I attended in college. No, in the adult world you bring gifts from Bombay or Pottery Barn or Crate and Barrel- usually stuff that people actually want. The problem with this is that humor is something that makes the whole exchange interesting. So I decided to bring a colander full of pasta. A lot of pasta. I cleaned out all of the pasta from our pantry and arranged it nicely in the colander, and placed the colander in the box and filled the box with more pasta. I thought this might be a nice gift, and maybe a little bit funny.
“Good thing you didn’t get that one, Elizabeth..”
Yeah, no one really got the idea. It would help if people knew who brought each gift. Well, it was funny to me.
Not that every other post that I write will be about life without gluten, but I just can’t help mentioning it sometimes. Like Friday night when I discovered Outback Steakhouse makes the best gluten free brownie EVER… or at the above mentioned party where my boss made almost an entire meal that I could eat, and even saved some salad separate so I could read the label on the dressing and make sure it is safe. When he pulled me aside and filled me in on the ingredients in every dish, I about teared up realizing how much thoughtfulness went into the meal. It’s not something you expect or really deserve, for people to go out of their way like that, but it sure makes social situations a heck of a lot easier to navigate.
So next year, I’ll be sure to stop by Pier One and buy a nice candle or maybe some napkin rings for my gift. And I won’t eat that can of pears before I go either.