As I pulled into Galleria Plaza with a fistful of semi-crisp fivers, willing to bribe someone for their parking space, I wondered how I was back at this point after last year’s hard lesson.
We’ve heard it all before, and we’ve said it ourselves: Let’s get the Christmas shopping done early. Now, if only we would heed that advice.
Last week, I chastised myself about leaving my decorating pretty late, and now we’re onto the joys of buying gifts. I swear, it was February this year when I said I would get on it almost immediately, so, come December, while everyone else was running around like elves hopped up on caffeine, I’d be sitting pretty with my feet up, hypnotised by the Yule Log channel on TV. Of course, the best laid plans, and all that. Here we are, mid-festive season, and I don’t have a single present purchased or wrapped.
I looked back on the tales that locals told me about the old days in Cayman, and wondered how we got from appreciating a new ribbon for our hair to not being able to live without a PlayStation 5. Hey, I’m not saying as a kid I didn’t want prezzies from Santa, but when I see ads on TV for someone walking out of their house to find a Brand New Car! (that’s ‘Price Is Right’-style) with a red bow on it, I’m all, “They must have been VERY nice this year!”
There are many gift choices out there, but if we leave it really late, we’ll either be buying loved ones a gift basket from the gas station (engine oil, replacement wipers, Digicel credit, 2-litre bottle of Pepsi and a Cadbury bar) or a trip to Maui. Medium-priced options are always the first to disappear off the shelves.
I will say that my initial browsing of local stores gave me hope that I’ll be able to get everything on my list right here in Cayman. Let’s face it, many of us have travelled to the US to do our shopping, but December was already a patience-testing time of year in Floridian malls without the additional thrill of wearing masks and being probed nasally.
Beyond that, considering the effect of COVID on the retail market, it’s particularly important to support our neighbourhood businesses at the moment.
I’m hoping I’ll follow at least some of the tips I’ve learned from Christmasses past, in order to waste as little time and money as possible.
Firstly, better to give someone who likes wine a nice bottle, rather than trying to be more creative with an item they’ll never use or like. You’re also granting them the perfect re-gift if they end up in a situation where they need to produce something with a bow on the fly for someone else. Don’t fib; how many times have you been cornered by an acquaintance who shows up with an unexpected gift, and you have to pull the ol’ “oh-yes-we-have-yours-right-here” gambit, while planting a ribbon on a random cheeky bottle of pinot noir behind you?
Secondly, don’t ever dismiss the practical gift in favour of the shiny one. My mother has always been a big proponent of this theory. When I was a child, I remember her giving sets of mixing bowls to people rather than glittery keepsakes. Even as they stared at her, followed by the bowls, she’d be confident in her decision.
“Believe me, they’ll use those so many times in the coming years, they’ll realise the value of them,” she said.
She was always right.
Only last week I thought of that wisdom, as I began to cut a mango with a new implement I’d acquired. I’ve always approached tableware and kitchen utensils as I did bedding – if it served a purpose, it didn’t matter if it was entry-level inexpensive. Bamboo and 100% cotton sheets changed my mind when it came to the boudoir, and over time, I accepted that (for example) a knife is not one-size-fits-all. If you have to put some serious pressure on a blade to pierce the skin of a tomato, either you’re doing it wrong, or your tool is sub-par.
Best friend Lynne, who understands the difference, has gently removed a paring knife from my hand and replaced it with the bread variety before my frustration at a loaf of sourdough has it flying towards a wall. Okay, that one’s on me. But, I also have a tendency to get el cheapo (I speak fluent Spanish) models of tongs, wooden spoons, and knives (presented in a plastic, clamshell tomb, that – when finally breached – can have edges sharper than the knife you’re trying to free) and then wonder why they don’t do the job properly.
Back to that mango I was cutting… About three months ago, I bought a high-quality, two-knife set. The sort that come in their own box. I figured when we had Japanese dignitaries in the house, I’d dig through the drawer of tequila shot glasses and mismatched table mats and pull the wooden container out to much applause, before accidentally lopping my finger off.
Anyhoo, we hadn’t used these utensils since I’d brought them home, and with a mango in hand (which can be a tricky fruit to peel), I thought I’d break out the big guns.
From the moment the blade touched the skin, it was a revelation. I didn’t know a knife could cut like this! It was like a steel razor, expertly revealing yellow-orange flesh without gouging great chunks out of it (like when I ruined my ornamental bird in woodworking class). So enchanted was I by my craftsmanship with the mango, that I began looking for other things to experiment upon. Surely we had a cucumber or a carrot lying around. Gimme that radish and I’ll make ya a flower!
Once my work was finished, I returned the knife to its box with reverence.
My eyes had been opened. I had seen the Matrix. I could never go back.
If you’re wondering what point I’m trying to drive at, ‘tis this: Something pretty and trendy may initially enchant the person to whom you’re giving the gift, but a great kitchen knife will be appreciated forever.
Failing that, you still can’t go wrong with a bottle of wine.
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