So, What do You Want?
I’ve always loved the fact that my birthday falls right in the middle of the best part of fall. Each year, the anticipation for October overwhelms me. It isn’t just because my birthday slaps me in the face [trust me, my birthdays are usually really low-key and uninteresting, and who needs another year, anyway?], it’s because the turning leaves and the rest of winter’s quiet seduction make me happy.
Each year, around this time, my husband starts asking me what I want for my birthday. Last year, I got a really sweet pair of Diesel sneakers. I asked for them, too. No, I begged for them. I love those shoes. Anyway, the problem for me and Mike when it comes to gifts is that he needs to know exactly what I want, and he doesn’t want to guess. Usually I’m ok with that, because his guesses can sort of suck. It’s not that he gets me things I don’t want, it’s that he gets me things that I sort of want but wouldn’t in a million years think of getting for myself.
The perfect [physical, wrapped] gift is two things.
- Something that I want but would never indulge myself in.
- Something I wouldn’t think of on my own but ends up being one of the best gifts possible.
Most women don’t hold out hope that their boyfriend or husband [or girlfriend or whatever] would be capable of the second option there. Nothing against you guys, but that’s a hard trick to pull off. In fact, I don’t even try that option when I’m shopping for my husband - I go get exactly what he has mentioned he’d like to have, but usually deprives himself of so Dash and I can dress nicely and eat well. An example of the second type of gift up there would be the sapphire earrings and necklace that my grandmother gave me shortly before she passed away. I didn’t even know they existed, much less want them or anything like them [I’m not really a jewelry type of gal], but when she gave them to me, they immediately became one of my most treasured possessions. So you can see that type of gift is difficult.
What could he give me that would end up being that kind of special? Some sperm, obviously. I wouldn’t even need a card that explains how amazing and perfect I am [hee] if I could wake up on the 14th and discover that I am pregnant. I’m really not hard to please, I’m just aching, and anticipating moving back home, spending the better part of next year away from him, and not having a chance for a while to conceive again. I’d like nothing more than to go home and inform everyone that we are expecting.
That would be amazing. That, and another World Series with the Red Sox. Oh, and a dinner date with Kevin Millar. And some tickets to one of the games versus the Yankees coming up. Oh, and a plane ticket to get there.
Nah, I’m not hard to please. Seriously honey, if you’re reading this, just give me a hug and remind me how lucky I am to have you, and I’m set.
Indefinitely.
they are tied right now, as i’m sure you know. itsa nailbytah!
Oh, and a new mp3 player since mine has bit the dust.
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