Just Click for Merry

So tis the season to gripe about the materialism of Christmas.  The one time of year when it's perfectly ok for everyone to live in a quasi-socialist La-La land and pretend that our American economy would not collapse without materialism.
Well my gripe is more specific. I'm not going to complain about the consumeristic pyramid scheme that is our economy. No, not this time. My gripe is that we have lost the magic of materialism.
What? Magical materialism. That's right. 
I remember my own childhood--when a few days before Christmas, packages would arrive at the front door. Now and then an exotic wooden box full of tropical oranges--individually wrapped in purple paper! Or how about the carefully prepared box from auntie, snuggled in brown craft paper? Lying within, one would find a lovely assortment of packages, each wrapped in different colored gift wrap, labeled with a pretty tag and a fancy department store box!
The truth is--I can no longer remember the gifts inside the boxes. But I do remember the excitement of receiving these pretty packages!! How fun it was to sort and open them all!
As an adult--I can't stand gifts. (Gift: a four letter word for more clutter). But something about a mysterious package with pretty paper around it, still peaks even a curmudgeons curiosity!
But here we are, Christmas 2014, and I am surrounded by the conspiracy that is non-magical online shopping. Personally, I never partake. No sir. I fight the hoards, go to stores, wrap and box it up, then stand in the crazy US postal service line --(and if you have ever seen these lines in Alaska, you know this is no laughing matter!!) And why? Because I care-- damn it! I might be out of my mind --but at least I sweat, ran out of tape, got paper cuts, slipped on the ice, caught germs, shopped local, and stood around endlessly--all to send out these ridiculous gifts!!!
And what do we get in exchange?? Online shopping. Big brown anonymous boxes dropped on our doorstep. No pretty paper, ribbons, gift tags or magic. Just ubiquitous big box store items, that I totally could have purchased myself---- half drunk in a bathrobe, thank you very much. 
But I will rejoice--as although my own snail shopping by foot, sweat, tears and car has left me exhausted and crazed, I have been lovingly spared the hassle of injuring my index finger while "clicking here"--now that's Holly Jolly!