Karen retired as a columnist after ten years in the profession and now blogs here. I had a great time reading more of her current work.
Below is one of her recent blog posts:
I expect it. I know it’s going to happen. So why do I act surprised, shocked and insulted every time retailers pull out the Christmas merchandise before I've purchased my Halloween candy? I don’t get it.
I wandered into the big box home improvement store in desperate need of a new grill cover, only to find the entire “Outdoor Entertaining” section gone. In its place were inflatable santas, dancing reindeer, singing squirrels and cube shaped, glitter coated illuminated snowmen. I did find a box of ornaments in the shape of a grill, bbq tongs and picnic table. But still no cover for our grill—not even a tiny one for the grill ornament.
A week later, the same store's sales flyer arrived announcing their, “New Expanded Assortment of Holiday Decorations!” What'd they do—temporarily take over the plumbing department too? Below the pictures of pre-lit artificial trees, live poinsettia plants and a wide variety of boxed lights, were cordless powered scissors, drill kits, socket wrench sets and stainless steel gas grills (still no covers). Those are " holiday decorations"? I don’t get it.
Around the corner from my neighborhood, on a busy, narrow, curvy road, a family faithfully fills their front yard with a dozen 30 foot tall inflatables like the ones at the above mentioned store (have yet to see socket wrenches hanging from their trees but it's still early). To date, not a single gawking motorist has driven their car into the zip line Santa, giant bell-ringing, stocking cap-clad inflatable squirrel or neighbor's brick wall. I don’t get that.
A couple weeks before Thanksgiving, I was trolling the mall in search of the Perfect Office Party Dress That Wouldn't Eat Into My Fruitcake Budget. There were Christmas decorations in every square foot of the upscale mall -- 50 foot tall ornately adorned trees, “Holiday Sales” and “One Day Early Shopper Specials” in every store. Little kids were lined up to see Santa. The mall corridors were lined with seasonal-only shops on wheels. The Hallmark store stuffed my favorite line of greeting cards in the stockroom to make way for singing, dancing and flashing Limited Edition ornaments and countless cards with red envelopes.
When I finally realized every perfect party dress required double layers of Spanx or a second mortgage, I surrendered to the humility of wearing last year's dress and started the trek back to my car. As I comforted myself with the knowledge my glove compartment contained a secret stash of ibuprofen and dark chocolate, a strange gleam caught my eye.
I stopped in front of the most inspiring department store window display I'd ever seen—more breath taking than the windows I've had the privilege of fogging up during Christmas weeks spent in New York City, Rome and Paris. This display consisted of nothing but a few clean cardboard boxes and simple lettering on the window: “You might notice our store is kind of bare. We will not deck our halls until after Thanksgiving. Why? We prefer to celebrate one holiday at a time.”
Now that I get. Finally. God Bless you, Nordstrom. God bless us, Everyone.
I wandered into the big box home improvement store in desperate need of a new grill cover, only to find the entire “Outdoor Entertaining” section gone. In its place were inflatable santas, dancing reindeer, singing squirrels and cube shaped, glitter coated illuminated snowmen. I did find a box of ornaments in the shape of a grill, bbq tongs and picnic table. But still no cover for our grill—not even a tiny one for the grill ornament.
A week later, the same store's sales flyer arrived announcing their, “New Expanded Assortment of Holiday Decorations!” What'd they do—temporarily take over the plumbing department too? Below the pictures of pre-lit artificial trees, live poinsettia plants and a wide variety of boxed lights, were cordless powered scissors, drill kits, socket wrench sets and stainless steel gas grills (still no covers). Those are " holiday decorations"? I don’t get it.
Around the corner from my neighborhood, on a busy, narrow, curvy road, a family faithfully fills their front yard with a dozen 30 foot tall inflatables like the ones at the above mentioned store (have yet to see socket wrenches hanging from their trees but it's still early). To date, not a single gawking motorist has driven their car into the zip line Santa, giant bell-ringing, stocking cap-clad inflatable squirrel or neighbor's brick wall. I don’t get that.
A couple weeks before Thanksgiving, I was trolling the mall in search of the Perfect Office Party Dress That Wouldn't Eat Into My Fruitcake Budget. There were Christmas decorations in every square foot of the upscale mall -- 50 foot tall ornately adorned trees, “Holiday Sales” and “One Day Early Shopper Specials” in every store. Little kids were lined up to see Santa. The mall corridors were lined with seasonal-only shops on wheels. The Hallmark store stuffed my favorite line of greeting cards in the stockroom to make way for singing, dancing and flashing Limited Edition ornaments and countless cards with red envelopes.
When I finally realized every perfect party dress required double layers of Spanx or a second mortgage, I surrendered to the humility of wearing last year's dress and started the trek back to my car. As I comforted myself with the knowledge my glove compartment contained a secret stash of ibuprofen and dark chocolate, a strange gleam caught my eye.
I stopped in front of the most inspiring department store window display I'd ever seen—more breath taking than the windows I've had the privilege of fogging up during Christmas weeks spent in New York City, Rome and Paris. This display consisted of nothing but a few clean cardboard boxes and simple lettering on the window: “You might notice our store is kind of bare. We will not deck our halls until after Thanksgiving. Why? We prefer to celebrate one holiday at a time.”
Now that I get. Finally. God Bless you, Nordstrom. God bless us, Everyone.
Mrs. Palmer's comments:
I have to admit, I am one of those people who have had my Christmas decorations up at my house since a week before Thanksgiving, but I do hate when the mall is decked out from October. I really like all of her hyperboles, like "When I finally realized every perfect party dress required double layers of Spanx or a second mortgage" and "There were Christmas decorations in every square foot of the upscale mall -- 50 foot tall ornately adorned trees, “Holiday Sales” and “One Day Early Shopper Specials” in every store." Hyperboles are a literary device that I use frequently when speaking, but not so much when writing. I guess I always fear they will sound cliché, but that is my new goal. Try to incorporate hyperboles into my writing. For Karen Rinehart, it's almost like a trademark.
If you liked this column, you should totally check out her website. There's a ton more where that came from!
If you liked this column, you should totally check out her website. There's a ton more where that came from!
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