OK, if asked what I want for Christmas, the first two honest answers I’m gonna give are diamond earrings the size of quarters, and a laptop. But ideally, what I really want is a thoughtful gift. A thoughtful gift to me is something that requires THOUGHT. You know, something the gift-giver needs to THINK ABOUT. Not something the gift-giver needs to rush out the weekend before Christmas in a flurry of excitability in hopes of finding the most perfect-smelling candle (which, as a sidenote, whether it be a candle, or just a smell in general, I am drawn to these families of smells: cinnamons, citruses, peppermint. Aren’t those just divine scents?)
Anyway. Thoughtful gifts. Not candles. Although, if a candle in one of the above families of scents were to come prettily wrapped, I would be delighted, and rush to light it, and be happy to sit in the glow of the flickering glimmer and be happy. Not that it’s particularly thoughtful, but if it didn’t arrive in musk or floral scent or those heavy dark and warm odors that give me headaches, I would light it and bask in the glow and the smell and be happy and thankful.
Other thoughtful gifts might include pretty stationery, notepads, journals, things for my office because I love to write, love to be in my work space, love to be surrounded by pretty things that inspire me to write. And books. Obviously, I love books. But books are very hard to pick out for me. I am very picky when it comes to selecting books for me as gifts. Your best bet is a bookstore gift card, and I for one, will never, ever look a gift card in the horse’s mouth. Or however that saying goes.
Now, this post is starting to sound greedy, and it’s not intended to be so. It’s meant to be humorous, and I’ve got a story to share. So, I told Mr. Manic, all I wanted was some sort of thoughtful gift; after, of course, telling him my first choices would be the diamond earrings and/or the laptop, which we both laughed because we are so not extravagant gift-givers.
The other night, he said, “I think I’ve got a couple things figured out for you for Christmas.”
“Are they thoughtful?” I asked. Because, of course, I have already chosen, purchased, and wrapped quite a few thoughtful gifts, not only for him, but also for his three children, his parents, my parents, his grandmother, my grandmother, his siblings, my siblings, etc. etc. etc. etc. You get the picture. Loud and clear. Yeah. Thought so. Thoughtful.
“Are they thoughtful?” I asked again.
“Well, I think you might be offended by one of them.”
“Offended?!” I paused to think about this. Why on earth would somebody, a spouse even, want to give you a gift that would offend you? Who does this? This sounds like a Seinfeld episode! OMG, I wish Seinfeld was still ON! I could submit this for an episode! It could be Jerry and Elaine discussing this very topic!
So, I start thinking about gifts to offend. “OK, I think I’ve got an idea, but I don’t want to say it in case I’m right.”
“Say it.” He says.
“Hmmm… A PERSONAL TRAINER!”
“No, but that’s a good idea.” He said.
“For the record, I would not be offended if you got me some personal trainer sessions for Christmas.” I reply.
Our day went on, and we didn’t discuss it further. In the back of my mind, I really didn’t think he’d get me sessions with a personal trainer because that is quite expensive, and I’m already “working on my fitness” via the health club, and yoga twice a week, and Weight Watchers (where I lost .08 this week and am now officially down 5.6 pounds DURING THE TOUGHEST TIME OF YEAR TO EVER DIET!) So, I pretty much wrote off the personal trainer thing, which was fine with me.
But last night, I was upstairs, and it came to me suddenly and I KNEW what the offending gift was. I just KNEW it, and without even saying anything, I thought to myself, “It so better NOT be what I think it IS going to be, because it would be the most non-thoughtful gift EVER!”
I went downstairs and I said, “I just figured out what your offending gift is.”
“What do you think it is?”
“I DEFINITELY don’t want to say it. But I’ll write it on a sheet of paper and when I open the gift on Christmas morning, I’ll hand you the sheet of paper with what I wrote down and then you’ll know I knew.”
“Just tell me what you think it is but don’t look at me and I won’t look at you when you say what it is.”
I’m laughing and he’s laughing because we’re both freakishly convinced we both know what we know what it is. Because we do, and I’m like, Dear God. Puhlease. Get some creativity.
And I go: “It’s a low-sodium cookbook and don’t even wrap it, and you might as well return it right now.”
And he goes: “Am I that predictable after 15 years?”
Two things to consider here:
I HATE to cook.
HE'S the one on the low-sodium diet.