Cynthia has forged ahead, bravely shopping the internet and lived to report on the trip. Millions of happy customers are doing their shopping on the Internet this year. Happy people, singing about Amazon Dot Com.  Zipping through their Christmas list on eddiebauer.com, eToys and Whatever.com. So I thought I would try it.  Again.   I tried it a while ago and wasn't exactly thrilled when Fariygodmother.com sent me shirts six sizes too big for the little girlies, charged me the $40 and said that maybe the right size would be available later. And this is an e-business, with only a web site, tells me this in a note.  Pen on paper. Stuck in the box with the unwanted shirts.  They didn't even eMail me about it. Later indeed. Like, after the twins are in High School... But the Internet is the wave of the future and I have relatives in Texas and Florida and I'm in Chicago and it will be easy.  It will be fun.  I'll end up wearing a red sweatshirt and drinking eggnog and singing and maybe even be in a commercial. Falalalala.... Right.  Sure it will be easy. Sure.  Maybe for Chairman Bill's minions at MicroSoft, but not for this computer illiterate shopper. One of the Women's magazines had an article on how easy and convenient net shopping was, touted several sites including one called NetMarket.  So I typed "netmarket" into the little navigation window in our web browser and presto, like magic I was at their site. That was the last magic in the whole undertaking. First off, they require you be a member to shop their web site.  It's like shopping at Sam's or Costco where the membership fee covers the savings unless you buy huge amounts of frozen fish and other stuff you probably won't use.  But they have this come-on deal: a free membership for three months.   All you have to do is give them your name, address, height, weight, shoe size, etc.  And credit card number. If you don't call and cancel the free membership within three months you become an actual member and you are out $72 actual dollars.   Jim asks me every other day if I've renounced my membership yet. Anyway, this lets me be a member.  Now I can browse through their site to see if they actually have anything I want. First was the experience with a wagon for the twins.  I typed in "wagon".  After a pause that seemed longer than necessary, the screen filled with the message that they had found 47 matches for my search. How could there be 47 different types of wagon.  It's just a flat surface with four wheels and a handle.  All we're going to do is pull the little girlies around in it. The list contained books on wagons, various ceramic wagons (suitable for collecting), cookie tins in the shape of a wagon.  And some actual wagons. Including, hooray, the one I'm looking for. I click on "place in shopping cart" I click on proceed to checkout. The computer warns me that giving out this information may be dangerous.  I think Jim told it to say that.  How else can you buy anything off the Internet, if you don't give them your credit card number.  Do I get the merchandise on my good looks? I'm sure Jim's behind this. I get to a screen that lists the wagon, its price, the shipping costs, I click where it says to procedure with this purchase.  It tells me to enter my  credit card number, expiration date, height, weight, shoe size, etc. again. Why?   I've already done this once.  Why do they want to know my shoe size? Okay, okay, I'll do it again. I do it again. I proceed to the checkout once more.  Try to buy the wagon.  Get the same silly screen again telling me I've done something wrong.  "Please," it repeats, "enter your credit card number, your weight, your height, etc. again." I've already done this.  Twice.  I am not humming a carrol.  I try one more time to get through the checkout.  This time they tell me I do not have anything in my shopping cart. "That's not true," I scream at the monitor, "I have a Explorer Wagon for $60.00.  What did you do with my wagon?" Jim asks me to come to dinner.  He suggests I shut down the web site, leave the computer, have a scotch.  Later, after the scotch and some dinner, with Jim's assistance we make the selection, enter the information, and proceed through checkout without any problems.  Jim behaves as though the success is somehow related to his assistance. Men. The following day our eMail has four messages from Net Market.com.  Confirming that I failed to order anything three times.  And confirms a wagon, at least one, has been ordered. A week later, I told Jim I was going to do some Christmas shopping on the net. He asked if there was anything I wanted from the grocery store and left.  A less than overwhelming endorsement of my proposed shopping trip. I find NetMarket is in my bookmarks file.  Jim must have done that.  Good boy.  I click on it.  Their site comes up and greets me like an old friend.  This is going to be easy.  Fun.  Maybe even as advertised. Falalala I get to the search page, type in toaster and I get 47 hits.  Again I have to wade through all the selections until I find what I want, but at least there aren't any cookie cutters shaped like toasters.  I put one in my shopping cart.  I'll tell you right now, clicking on an icon does not have the same physical reality to it that picking up a box lugging it to the checkout and then through the store and out to the car does. Maybe this is okay, this online shopping. I type in waffle irons and I get no hits.  None.  How could I get zero hits?  They still make waffle irons don't they?  You want waffles you go to Denny's?  They've got the exclusive? I type in just "waffle" and get 47 hits.  Is 47 the magic number?  Why do I always get that number?  Maybe they are lying to me.  I didn't actually count the number of wagons or toasters; maybe it only seemed like 47.  Maybe research shows... Nah. I discover that waffle irons no longer exist.  They are waffle makers now.  La-ti-da. I page through the waffle makers, select one, go on to the checkout process.  I've successfully placed my order after only one  "go back and fill in this blank" experience. The next day I have three eMails from NetMarket.com, confirming my orders. One for the toaster, one for the waffle maker and one for the toaster, again.  Somehow I've ordered two toaster ovens. "Clever," sympathizes Jim, "How did you manage that?" I don't know, but I sign back on to the web site, read through several pages of information, and discover that I cannot cancel an order over the Internet.  I don't understand.  This is the eCommerce era.  I placed the order over the Internet, why can't I cancel it over the Internet?  Instead I have to call the company on the actual old fashioned telephone.   This doesn't seem right to me, but I call them to cancel one order for a toaster.  The line is busy.  I'm put on hold.  They are playing Christmas music.  Fa ! Eventually a polite young man tells me they are having computer problems.   I know how they feel.  Two calls later I am assured that the order for one toaster has been canceled.  I insist on getting some sort of confirmation number for this.  This causes a pause and then he gives me one. I think he made the number up.  I hope Mother gets at least one Toaster.  I hope I only get billed for one.  Where is the fun ? Sunday I went shopping with my daughter.  We stopped for lunch in a nice little deli. We walked around and looked at the decorations.  Hummed carols.  Looked at this and that.  Found a nice sweater.  Scented soap in a snowman bottle.  It was pleasurable, delightful, up lifting.  We stopped for coffee and a pastry, watched the parade going by, commenting on other shoppers attire, gossiped about family members.  We were Shopping. Where's the pleasure if you are shopping the Internet?  It's dry and impersonable. It's Christmas shopping for men.  You have to go on blind faith you'll receive the item, the one you wanted at the price you agreed upon, and that you'll only receive one.  The Internet doesn't wrap your package, they don't attach a gift tag reading from your one and only Lovely Daughter, Sister, etc. You wait for your Visa statement to see if all is correct.  You don't know until your brother calls whether or not it got there.  Where is the fun in any of this? The newspaper says 4 percent of Americans will do some of their Christmas shopping on the Internet this year.  Next year they claim it will be 20 or 25 percent. I hope so.  Maybe I will be able to park closer to the Mall.  That's where I'm doing my Christmas Shopping.   At the Mall.   Falalalalala.