This is the last time you’ll see such a packed stocking, I'm told. [Santa’s stuffing days, I fear, are numbered. Or, he has finally realized that he has been packing in little bundles into someone's stocking even though that someone has long passed the average age of his target audience (eight maybe?).]
But I delight in the image of the stuffed stocking! I hadn’t really known about stockings being stuffed until I came here, to the States and so the whole thing started late for me.
And because waste is not a big ticket item in this family, the rule is that Santa must think carefully about what goes in. I know, big burden on the big guy, but what with the environment and credit card debt and all the other horrors appended to waste-buying, we do insist on usefulness.
How beautiful small things can be! Toffee, the kind I used to love but never see anymore. Cassis hand soap, fresh dish towels. All will be consumed or worn threadbare in the year ahead.
Small is good, small is beautiful. When the kids looked for toys under the tree, I was stunned how much airspace was sold in a Mattel toy box. Airspace that I had to cover with paper.
Small packages with big hearts. A camisole from some who know how to buy camisoles, gloves, the warm kind, because I get so damn cold walking home.
In the world of food as well. Small corn pancakes with pieces of smoked salmon and dill. Big dinner follows, but do not forget the small, nor the tiny dessert profiteroles with pomegranate icecream.
Small, small, beautiful small things.
It leaves room to hatch great, big plans.