Crisis Averted. Almost.

I am happy to report that the holidays have come and gone with no charitable catastrophes. All gifts were appropriately wrapped and strictly materialistic. What a relief!

However, another catastrophe was in the making. Normally every Christmas involves the opening of some gift with malevolent intentions. These gifts are always more of an elbow jab than a hug. There have been electronic fart machines, dishes glued together, a full-sized chicken tree ornament, complete with a name ("Holy Henny") and an egg underneath the tail feather that, when pressed, played carols.

However, by Christmas Day, gift exchanges with coworkers, friends, and my immediate family had already come and gone without any pointing-and-laughing. With just Christmas Day lunch at my grandmother's home left, I was starting to lose hope. Luckily my grandmother, ever the clutch player, came out swinging. She had barely put on her wig before she was thrusting a wrapped box in my hand and shoving me into a robotic recliner. From the glint in her eye, I knew it was going to be expectedly not good.

Drum roll please...

Yes. That is a gold-and-ivory serving platter, completed with a cardinal nestled amidst pine needles and the charming phrase: "Bless This Home ... The Suzanne."

After I opened it, my grandmother laughed with glee and hovered, waiting for my reaction. As you can tell from my expression in the picture below, I wasn't quite sure what she was after. So I went with a mix of amusement, confusion, and just a hint of dread.

I was told later that, apparently, there had been a mix-up at the Cardinal Plate Factory. Normally these plates feature the name of the family. For example, "Bless This Home ... The Schadenfreudes." Since I'm single, my grandmother decided to adjust the normal template to just feature my first name. One thing leads to another, a detail in quality control is overlooked, and you wind up with a plate that looks like a huge, egomaniacal expression one can eat cheese and crackers off of. Which, of course, my grandmother found hilarious.

What I found hilarious: after opening the "The Suzanne" dish, I spent five minutes outwardly cooing over the beauty and inwardly plotting where I could stash it in my house, never to see the light of day again. Thinking I had successfully dodged a bullet, my grandmother brought out a second plate. Same cardinal, same flecked gold border, only with the corrected "Bless This Home ... Suzanne" sentiment. So now I have two plates.

My new 2012 mission: befriend another Suzanne (or The Suzanne) before next December. Spread the word. And let the regifting commence.