Early Sunday morning, a couple of friends and I are braving the mall in hopes of finishing off (or in some cases, starting) our Christmas shopping. Chad told me that I have to pick my presents (bridal shower, birthday, and Christmas, oh my). If I don't, then he or Val will snatch whatever I pick up with interest and run to the register. I told Chad that's not how it's supposed to work, there's no surprise in shopping for your own presents. He wasn't convinced. So either I'll be nice and cooperative or they'll be stalking me in the store aisles.

One of my friends and I had agreed a long time back not to exchange gifts, instead we exchange Christmas cards. But even with that I can spend an eternity in Hallmark trying to find a meaningful, yet funny card that she'll like. I understand Chad's pain, I know it well. The pain of putting up with long lines, crowded malls, circling for parking, is nothing compared to what we inflict on ourselves by trying to find or figure out what the other person would like or (hopefully) love.

I think it'll be fun shopping with friends. Just give me a cup of coffee and I'll be good to go.