I suck at gifts. I think because I'm an only child, and I pretty much got what I wanted as a kid. At some point, I started feeling guilty about that, and figured I had pretty much what I needed. Thus, to this day, if you ask me what I want for my birthday, Christmas, or Kwanza, I say, "Nothing. I don't need anything."
My Lovely Bride is the exact opposite. She loves gifts, and gets that it isn't about what you need, it is about what you want. I think this is because she didn't get nearly as much as me as a kid for birthday and Christmas.
Our marriage, like any other has it ups and downs. Ebb and flow. This gift issue though, is a continual challenge, one that I'm staring down yet again.
It's harder now too. Not only do I need to get a gift from me, I need to get gifts for her from the Boy(s).
One of the ways I try and gear up for this challenge, is to mentally review highs and lows from past gifts. Believe me, there have been many more lows, than highs, and truth be told, what I think is the biggest high (leather coat for her birthday many years ago,) only happened because I'm a dipshit.
The story. Sad, but true, happened at Nordstroms in the Galleria (which was new to Dallas at that point.) I had heard that Nordstroms was a great place for personal service, which I needed. Because not only do I suck, I realize that I suck. Nordstroms also had a pub in their men's department back then, where I figured I could drink a pint (or two) while my transaction was completed and the gift was wrapped.
When I entered the women's department the only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted to buy my Lovely Bride a leather coat for her birthday. From there. I was clueless. Had no idea on what style. Length. Size. At that point in our marriage, I hadn't realized that I could ask My Lovely Bride's Mother these questions. So, instead, I marched up to the first sales lady I saw and said, "Can you help me?"
"Yes sir." She replied.
"I need to get a coat for my wife." I said. "It's her birthday."
"A coat would make a lovely gift." She said.
"Today is literally her birthday," I continued. "I need to get something, nice, and get it wrapped, and then I need to go to a dinner thing at my in-laws for the birthday. Like in an hour."
"I understand sir." She said. "What style of coat are you thinking for your wife?"
"Leather." I said.
"We have an excellent selection of leather coats." She said, "What color were you thinking? And length? Are you looking for a classic style, something more modern?"
Nothing. I was a deer in headlights.
"Of..." I babbled, "Leather?"
"I understand sir. I think I can suggest something your wife will like?" She said.
"I'm not very good at this," I said. "I'm not really sure. I just want it to be nice. And gift wrapped. Oh, and I need to make sure she can exchange it in case I screw up."
"Yes sir, I understand. How about this coat." She said.
"I like it." I said. "How much?"
"What size of coat do we need to look at, sir?" She said.
"Of..." I babbled. Clueless.
"That's ok sir. Many men don't know their wife's size. Perhaps you can tell me more about her, or if she's comparable to anyone in the department?" She said, looking around.
"She's about your size." I said. "only her boobs are way bigger than yours."
It took a split second for my mind to catch up with my mouth. The sales lady just stared at me, with an uneasy smile on her face.
"I'm sorry." I said. "I suck."
"It's ok," she replied, as that uneasy smile morphed into a shrewd one, "Most men do," She put the original coat down and grabbed another off the rack, "what do you think of this coat?"
"Of..." I said.
That coat, was of course, the coat that I bought. It was much more expensive, thus nicer than the original coat shown, and truth be told, much nicer than I would have purchased on my own.
Most important though, the gift didn't suck. My Lovely Bride Loved it. And as I said, at the get go of this here BLOG entry, it probably is the best gift that I've ever purchased for her.
All because I'm a dipshit, who talked himself into a corner, by telling a complete stranger that my wife's boobs were way bigger than hers.
Until I BLOG again...Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Couldn't miss this one this year!
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Friday, December 07, 2007
This is what I do
Life doesn't offer up many second chances, which is why I said, "Yes," when My Lovely Bride asked if I would read at E's storytime the following Monday.
No wait. Back up. Let me start earlier.
I thought it was funny, in a 'tis the season sort of a way, that the reason My Lovely Bride spaced out and forgot her guest reader spot at the Elder Boy's school storytime was because of elfa shelves.
In her defense, the PTA person in charge of booking guest readers, failed to email a reminder until an hour after My Lovely Bride was supposed to take the stage at storytime. That didn't assuage her guilt though. She needed me for that, which is why she asked, "Can you read at E's school next week? I can't, I'm substitute teaching there that Monday."
"Of..." I said, buying time to run my schedule through my monkey brain. It was still stuck on the elfa joke. She took my hesitancy as a sign that I didn't want to do it because I'd been so busy at work.
"That's ok," she said, "I'll tell her no."
"Wait." I said. "I have been busy at work, and that's my first week back to normal, but..." I thought more about my schedule, and how it would be tight, but, I could probably do it, "What if you tell her I'll do it if she can't find anyone else to do it?"
My Lovely Bride just stared at me, like the dipshit that I am.
"Oh. I guess if I say that, I'm pretty much doing it. Huh?" I said.
She nodded her head, slowly.
"It is important though." I said, more to myself than her, "Tell PTA Lady I'll do it. Oh, and when you do, be sure and cc: me on that email so I don't forget to add it to my calendar."
Later at work, I got an email from the PTA lady (addressed to my Lovely Bride, with me cc:'d) that said: Great! I've got him down for next Monday and I'll be getting in touch with you about the schedule for January and beyond. Thank you both for being willing volunteers!
Reading it, I thought about second chances, and decided to hit reply all (so My Lovely Bride would see) and wrote: No problem. I enjoyed it last time, and maybe this time the Boy will let me read Walter the Farting Dog to his class. He didn’t last time. He was afraid Mrs. Nowacki wouldn’t like it and that I’d end up on ‘red.’
Bam! I hit send. Five minutes later, maybe less, I had a reply from the PTA Lady that said: Very funny how their minds think! But good for him for having a healthy fear of being on red. Ms. Nowacki (the librarian) is usually open to whatever you want to read, so bring it a little early and ask her if it's okay. The only reason I could see for not reading it is that the class might get out of hand and Ms. Green would never hear the end of chatter about/imitation of the book.
After I stopped laughing, I hit reply all (again, so My Lovely Bride would realize how lucky she was to live with such a funny guy) and wrote: You misunderstood me. Not put the Boy on red. Put me on red. He's afraid that Mrs. Nowacki can do that to me. I assured him I'm an adult and I'm above her Homeland Security like behavioral chart. He doesn't believe me. The Boy thinks a teacher is above an adult. I disagree, plus I don't feel my material should have to be approved by Mrs. Nowacki. Because of Freedom of Speech, as well as the last time I read at storytime, Mrs. Nowacki told me she's a Tiger (LSU.) I'm a Sooner (OU.) I'm still upset that they get to play in the National Championship while my Sooners have to go to the Fiesta Bowl.
I held my finger over the Bam! button, and wondered if being funny and freaking the PTA Lady out for my own amusement was worth ruining the Boy's green (behavior chart, green=good) record?
It would be funny. Very funny. I'm sure that Mrs. Nowacki (as well as the PTA lady) wouldn't put the Boy on red because of me. They also couldn't put me on red. What teacher could? Right?
Wrong.
There was one.
Mrs. Tinsley.
She would only be a substitute that day, but still, if I pissed her off, red would seem like green when compared to what she could do to me.
Quickly and carefully I moved my finger away from the Bam button, closing the message (unsent) and went back to work.
Until I BLOG again...All of us have a albatross and this is my one.
No wait. Back up. Let me start earlier.
I thought it was funny, in a 'tis the season sort of a way, that the reason My Lovely Bride spaced out and forgot her guest reader spot at the Elder Boy's school storytime was because of elfa shelves.
In her defense, the PTA person in charge of booking guest readers, failed to email a reminder until an hour after My Lovely Bride was supposed to take the stage at storytime. That didn't assuage her guilt though. She needed me for that, which is why she asked, "Can you read at E's school next week? I can't, I'm substitute teaching there that Monday."
"Of..." I said, buying time to run my schedule through my monkey brain. It was still stuck on the elfa joke. She took my hesitancy as a sign that I didn't want to do it because I'd been so busy at work.
"That's ok," she said, "I'll tell her no."
"Wait." I said. "I have been busy at work, and that's my first week back to normal, but..." I thought more about my schedule, and how it would be tight, but, I could probably do it, "What if you tell her I'll do it if she can't find anyone else to do it?"
My Lovely Bride just stared at me, like the dipshit that I am.
"Oh. I guess if I say that, I'm pretty much doing it. Huh?" I said.
She nodded her head, slowly.
"It is important though." I said, more to myself than her, "Tell PTA Lady I'll do it. Oh, and when you do, be sure and cc: me on that email so I don't forget to add it to my calendar."
Later at work, I got an email from the PTA lady (addressed to my Lovely Bride, with me cc:'d) that said: Great! I've got him down for next Monday and I'll be getting in touch with you about the schedule for January and beyond. Thank you both for being willing volunteers!
Reading it, I thought about second chances, and decided to hit reply all (so My Lovely Bride would see) and wrote: No problem. I enjoyed it last time, and maybe this time the Boy will let me read Walter the Farting Dog to his class. He didn’t last time. He was afraid Mrs. Nowacki wouldn’t like it and that I’d end up on ‘red.’
Bam! I hit send. Five minutes later, maybe less, I had a reply from the PTA Lady that said: Very funny how their minds think! But good for him for having a healthy fear of being on red. Ms. Nowacki (the librarian) is usually open to whatever you want to read, so bring it a little early and ask her if it's okay. The only reason I could see for not reading it is that the class might get out of hand and Ms. Green would never hear the end of chatter about/imitation of the book.
After I stopped laughing, I hit reply all (again, so My Lovely Bride would realize how lucky she was to live with such a funny guy) and wrote: You misunderstood me. Not put the Boy on red. Put me on red. He's afraid that Mrs. Nowacki can do that to me. I assured him I'm an adult and I'm above her Homeland Security like behavioral chart. He doesn't believe me. The Boy thinks a teacher is above an adult. I disagree, plus I don't feel my material should have to be approved by Mrs. Nowacki. Because of Freedom of Speech, as well as the last time I read at storytime, Mrs. Nowacki told me she's a Tiger (LSU.) I'm a Sooner (OU.) I'm still upset that they get to play in the National Championship while my Sooners have to go to the Fiesta Bowl.
I held my finger over the Bam! button, and wondered if being funny and freaking the PTA Lady out for my own amusement was worth ruining the Boy's green (behavior chart, green=good) record?
It would be funny. Very funny. I'm sure that Mrs. Nowacki (as well as the PTA lady) wouldn't put the Boy on red because of me. They also couldn't put me on red. What teacher could? Right?
Wrong.
There was one.
Mrs. Tinsley.
She would only be a substitute that day, but still, if I pissed her off, red would seem like green when compared to what she could do to me.
Quickly and carefully I moved my finger away from the Bam button, closing the message (unsent) and went back to work.
Until I BLOG again...All of us have a albatross and this is my one.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Disappear into the sea
My unforgettable fire finally occurred the night of November 22nd, on a narrow and dirty spit of beach on Bolivar Peninsula that is wedged between North Jetty and Fort Travis. It happened on Thanksgiving. The moon was even full.
Not that I planned it that way. I'm a dipshit. Serendipity is more like it.
You see Dear Reader, I didn't intend to burn my bag of shit that night. I built that fire so we could make s'mores. A non-traditional dessert to cap our non-traditional Thanksgiving shrimp boil. It was only after we said so-long to Pops, and the Boy(s) said they wanted to go play Sorry!, that my Lovely Bride asked, "Are you going to do your thing?"
My thing.
At that point, I hadn't even thought about it, which I'm sure is hard to believe considering I've had the bag of shit I planned to burn in the back of my XTerra since September 16. I had thrown that bag into the van before we left for the trip. I had even added the Fuck Cancer t-shirt that a friend from work had made. I had forgot it in September.
I did plan to do my thing on our Thanksgiving trip, but not that night. I figured I'd do it Friday, or maybe even Saturday. Even though the forecast predicted rain. Strange isn't it. I think my tendency to postpone was more about the fear that the experience wouldn't live up to my expectation. Along with that fact that I have a hard time letting go, and the whole exercise was my own goofy version of closure to something that I had closed at that house back in September.
Yet that bag of shit was in the van. Ready. It was Thanksgiving. The moon was full.
How much more right can it get?
"I don't know," I replied, "don't you need help with the Boy(s)?"
"No. You should do it." Said My Lovely Bride.
Indeed.
My unforgettable fire occurred on Thanksgiving night, under a full moon. I burned the entire bag of shit, item by item, one at a time. In front of me, a few miles off the coast, I watched tankers and cargo ships enter (and leave) Galveston Bay. Behind me, up in Howe's House, I could see my Lovely Bride and the Boy(s), in their pajamas, playing a board game around the dining room table.
Later my Lovely Bride asked, "Was it everything you wanted?"
"Yes." I replied. "It was."
Until I BLOG again...Not a tear, no not I.
Not that I planned it that way. I'm a dipshit. Serendipity is more like it.
You see Dear Reader, I didn't intend to burn my bag of shit that night. I built that fire so we could make s'mores. A non-traditional dessert to cap our non-traditional Thanksgiving shrimp boil. It was only after we said so-long to Pops, and the Boy(s) said they wanted to go play Sorry!, that my Lovely Bride asked, "Are you going to do your thing?"
My thing.
At that point, I hadn't even thought about it, which I'm sure is hard to believe considering I've had the bag of shit I planned to burn in the back of my XTerra since September 16. I had thrown that bag into the van before we left for the trip. I had even added the Fuck Cancer t-shirt that a friend from work had made. I had forgot it in September.
I did plan to do my thing on our Thanksgiving trip, but not that night. I figured I'd do it Friday, or maybe even Saturday. Even though the forecast predicted rain. Strange isn't it. I think my tendency to postpone was more about the fear that the experience wouldn't live up to my expectation. Along with that fact that I have a hard time letting go, and the whole exercise was my own goofy version of closure to something that I had closed at that house back in September.
Yet that bag of shit was in the van. Ready. It was Thanksgiving. The moon was full.
How much more right can it get?
"I don't know," I replied, "don't you need help with the Boy(s)?"
"No. You should do it." Said My Lovely Bride.
Indeed.
My unforgettable fire occurred on Thanksgiving night, under a full moon. I burned the entire bag of shit, item by item, one at a time. In front of me, a few miles off the coast, I watched tankers and cargo ships enter (and leave) Galveston Bay. Behind me, up in Howe's House, I could see my Lovely Bride and the Boy(s), in their pajamas, playing a board game around the dining room table.
Later my Lovely Bride asked, "Was it everything you wanted?"
"Yes." I replied. "It was."
Until I BLOG again...Not a tear, no not I.
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