Tai-a-Phobia

When we put Luke in the car, he starts howling and panting. He hates the car even though in one hour he will be in the mountains, where he can run to his heart’s content. In the past, I have tried to take Andy to a Jazz game, but his fear of heights will not even allow him to put one foot inside the arena. I understand this fear of confined places and nosebleed seating, because I have the same physical reaction to my own unfounded fears. There are phobia institutes that force people to confront their fears. I saw an advertisement for a clinic to help “handwashers” and others germaphobes. They promised that at the end of the session you would be eating your lunch in an outhouse (in my case that could also cure my claustrophobic tendencies—although our hotel in Paris helped me in that regard). This week I was once again feeling sympathy pains for Luke and Andy as I temporarily forgot how my body begins to sweat and shake when I succumb to the temptation of “running into” TaiPan Trading Company. I had barely passed the discounted turkey platters at the front door when I could feel my underarms getting moist. I quickly passed the dishes to just “get an idea” of what a new Christmas tree might cost. It wasn’t the 850.00 price tag that gave me heart palpitations-it was wondering how, with 30 different varieties of pinecones, one could ever choose. I decided to glance at the garlands and my eye started twitching. Maybe I should find a restroom. I looked around, no one else seemed to have white knuckles as they pushed their carts towards the ornaments. I debated with myself, “should I run now?” Between me and the front door was, the BIG display, the themed trees-gingerbread, peacocks, elves, snowflakes, old world Santas, new world Santas, Santas in spacesuits—breathe in, breathe out, I reminded myself. Don’t pass out next to all these breakable items! Oh, what was this, a new section? Does TaiPan now sell clothing accessories too? Don’t stop, I was almost to the door—then out of the corner of my eye I saw the cellophane-a big roll 6.99. I really needed some, it makes the cheapest gift look like you actually care—no I can’t. I can’t stand in line behind all those happy mother/daughter teams with their baskets filled to overflowing. I can’t stay here any longer. My presents will just have to be wrapped in the K-mart Big Roll. I see the door. I see the blue sky. I see my car. I pull out my cell-phone. I call Heather—no one else understands like Heather.

But maybe Jessica understands too. Because she is the one that taught me about the decorating “Bible”-- the Pottery Barn catalog. “Look but don’t buy!” She is one that showed me that anything and everything you need for decorating can be found in three aisles at T.J. Maxx. So until next year, when that weird urge to be like my neighbors, overtakes me again, I will gather pinecones in my backyard and spend 1.69 on real apples and corn at Smiths and I will let Zac cut me a tree on his snowmobile. And always, when passing the 90^th South exit, I will remember to keep on driving.