A long-standing tension in our household is that I believe we should spend about $50 apiece on Christmas presents for each other, buying and making maybe one or two things, and then additionally making a donation somewhere in the other person's name. Tony, on the other hand, believes "we each must have at least ten store-bought presents under the tree on Christmas morning, including the dog; no price limits!"
Nevermind that I am Jewish, had never once celebrated Christmas until we got together seven years ago and can't remember whether Christmas morning is December 23, 24, 25 or 26. There! Must! Be! Presents!
To be fair, Tony really does love giving and getting a lot of presents, and he's very cute in his pajamas, sitting under a dead tree in a sea of withered wrapping paper that I've been re-using since college. And so, by the time we were four years in, we'd had a series of much-anticipated, terribly expensive and totally pleasant gift exchanges. But the best present we could remember--very nearly the only present we could remember--was a rope toy the size of Tony's head that Eggs really loved. It shed little bits of red and navy blue thread throughout our house until we moved in 2010.
Thus, two years ago, as a mechanism for fostering creativity and thoughtfulness (not to mention prudence), we imposed a spending cap. I don't remember the amount, and it's not important. Point is: on Christmas morning, it was revealed that we'd both stopped keeping track of how much we'd spent after having blown through the putative limit halfway through buying a houseload of utterly forgettable stuff. It's a miracle neither of us has been elected to the U.S. Senate yet.
So last year, we took another tack...and it worked beautifully. I don't remember how we came up with the idea, but here's the deal: we created five categories, and we both had to buy the other person a present in each category, plus one present for the dog. This system provided just enough stuff to make Tony happy and just enough constraint to please me, too.
Our categories were:
* Something to read
* Something to wear
* Something to do
* Something for the apartment
* Something romantic
If you approach things creatively, it's not hard to wind up with ten presents each. Mittens, for instance, can be wrapped separately. And we have two apts, so that category is extensible (lest you picture extravagance, they are both small rentals--one with no heat, the other where we discovered that Eggs does not chase mice).
This year, we might consider other categories. For example:
* Something philanthropic
* Something home-made
* Something used
* Something electronic
* Something serial
* Something to listen to
* Something to watch
* Something to eat
* Something to build
* Something to grow
* Something to play with
* Something that smells great
* Something not from China
Any good categories we're missing? And any totally fucking indestructible dog toys you'd recommend? If it has stuffing, it does not qualify.
Looking forward to Christmas morning this year! Whichever day it turns out to be.