Christmas is a day.
Of this I am certain. Everything else is mere speculation.on my part. You see, my family didn't celebrate Christmas (we checked the box marked 'other' on all official forms). It wasn't until my heart was ensnared by a wily Hibernian-American that I was exposed to the holiday season.
And then it all came crashing down, like a poorly-constructed house of cards.
Three years of therapy later, and I'm just now able to say the word "Christmas," except I pronounce it "X-mas." Because of the trauma of brokenheartedness, I've blocked out the little knowledge I had previously gained. Now what's left on my mind grapes comes from reruns on TV Land.
On Christmas, I know that there is an important lesson to be learned, one that usually brings together a group of people. Sometimes they're a family and sometimes they're a group of strangers. I know that one of those mall Santas is actually the *real* Santa, and it's usually the one that YOU spoke to. I know that it snows in unlikely places. I know that your aunt always gives terrible presents. Sometimes the person that everyone hates has a change of heart and becomes beloved. There will be singing! And yule! And chestnuts!
Some people love it so much, they wish every day was Christmas. Every. Day. Me, personally, I couldn't cope with it. My voice physically can't handle that much singing. And I have a chestnut allergy. There's also the 'other' box. And the heartache. Oh, the eternal heartache...
But maybe you're a stronger person than me. Then game on, friend! With this picture disc, you never have to say goodbye to Christmas. This clock was made from a copy of Disney's something or other Christmas. Look, there's Donald! And Mickey! And Minnie! And their adopted Chinese baby! To tie the whole thing together, I've painted the hour and minute hand a deep red color, the same color of ...love (oh, Sheila, how could you hurt me so bad!? No, no--hold it together, Catfish. Stay strong). If you look closely, you might even be able to see the gold flecks I tossed on there. Oh, what a truly wonderful time of the sphere!
Each clock comes complete with just one (1) hour and one (1) minute hand, because, unfortunately, every second does not count. Clock hands are manually painted by hand (my hand-s), and may include slight blemishes (proof they were crafted by the honest, simple, hard-working indigenous peoples of... wherever [Tucson]). Each paint job is unique and may not be accurately depicted in the photograph (which means, sometimes I reuse the same picture for the same album). One AA battery is required, but not provided.
These quality, hand-crafted clocks are made right in the heart of the U.S. of A, sans the use of sweatshops, outsourced customer support, or Wal-Mart.
Single clocks are shipped via USPS Priority Mail. Clocks are carefully packed for transit, but these things can be somewhat fragile, so, while I’ve never received a complaint of a damaged piece, might I suggest you add the $1.80 for insurance purposes. Worst-case scenario, it can be charity for our floundering postal service.
International shipping is available, but every country is a different price, or so says the man with the mustache at the counter.
**Clocks are fashioned from used vinyl records, and while I aim to be scrutinous in my selection of vinyl, there is no guarantee that clocks will be 100% free of minor imperfections. It's called character, people. Like that scar on your mom’s face! Burn!**