It can be terribly hard to find the perfect Yule gift for someone. You have to know what they like and what they don’t like. What their size is. What their favorite color is. What things they will and will not eat. Their stance on imported items, synthetic fibers, political commentary, logo-bearing merchandise, and whether anything bearing a branded character is welcome within fifty feet of their house.
I say it “can” be. It needn’t be if, like me, you don’t give a reindeer’s patootie about the “perfect” gift and just follow a few easy guidelines. Chocolate is one size fits all, unless for some unfathomable reason a giftee doesn’t like or can’t have chocolate, in which case I eat it all myself and they get coal. Book-loving people with a passion for fine literature get bound copies of my manifesto. Active people who like to exercise get a tin can they can kick healthfully around the block. Gardeners get packets of thistle, grassbur, and poison ivy seeds. Hedonists get fluffy terry robes with the hotel logo embroidery semi-carefully picked out and only-slightly-used personal size toiletries. Families with small children get light-up, noise-making toys that go through AA batteries like the human female goes through Cheetos. Frigga gets new hairpins, Odin gets a googly eye to put on his eyepatch, Thor gets a tin of hammer polish, and Sigyn… Sigyn gets whatever she wants.
The human female is just about done with her Yule marketing but is looking for a few last things. Sigyn and I have tagged along, not because we have shopping left to do, but because mortals and merchandise this time of year are absolutely ridiculous and I can always do with a laugh.
The first thing to assault our senses upon entering is this very large, very unnecessary, very useless Yule light bulb.
Sigyn thinks one would look very festive at home.
It even comes in green.
It also appears to come with some pale green, pointy-eared, poorly dressed personage which, no, thank you. See rule about branded characters, above.
This mini waffle iron comes in both red AND green.
We all know that the human female is hopeless with waffles, but I’m a fan, and Sigyn seems interested. I may have to sneak back here when I’m not with her. And liberate one from the clutches of godless capitalism.
Now we are perusing the wares in the toy aisle. Many of the human female’s family members enjoy games. This might be a good present.
And my recommendation should carry some weight. After all, I am an expert in feline felonies!
Perhaps this game would be better.
For twenty bucks you get “six squishy goats,” which is, I suppose, meant to be a selling point, but do all of the included goats resemble some unspeakable cross between Underdog and Danger Mouse? I mean, look:
All that “goat” needs is an eyepatch to be 100% ungoat-like. I think we should keep looking.
While I have been mulling the possible copyright infringements of squishy goats, Sigyn has been making friends.
A trio small mouselings in need of a babysitter. I think my sweetie is on the verge of volunteering. But where are the parents?
Mr. Caterpillar does not seem to know.
And this snail (?) is equally clueless. Ah, here come the parents. About time, too! For a minute there I feared I was going to be hosting a quarter-dozen no doubt damp-bottomed pipsqueaks when I’d rather be doing literally anything else.
(later) The human female has managed to find a few suitable gifts for the people on her list. Mortal, if perchance you haven’t yet come up with the perfect gift for one clever, handsome, charismatic Jotun, I can offer a helpful suggestion:
Just putting that out there.