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Birthday Bliss

I discovered an extra year this past weekend and felt like tacking it onto my age, just for kicks. Call me crazy. With birthdays come gifts! Here’s the story of mine. Three weeks before birthday. Hubby: What do you want for your birthday. Me (while watching X-Files): Nothing. Hubby: That’s not fair. I have to get you something. Me: (Run, Mulder, run!!) A billion dollars. Hubby: I’m serious. Me: So am I. Hubby: You have to let me get you something. Me: I do want something, and it’s nothing. Why is it that Scully’s never present when the aliens show up? Two weeks before my birthday. Me (sitting on kitchen counter): I read this funny thing on Failbook the other day. This guy posted a picture of a rifle and the caption said, ‘the sweet gun I got for my wife.’. Then a friend of his said, ‘is that why your wife’s status says that Santa skipped her house this year?’ (uncontrollable fits of laughter). Hubby: That’s not funny. That’s a good gift. Me (wiping tears away from my eyes): Are you kidding me? A gun for Christmas? That’s a horrible gift! I’d post that status if you ever got me a gun as a gift. Hubby (in a sad voice): You would? Me: Heck yes I would. Hubby: But then you’d have your own gun to go shooting with when we go out. Me: Or I could just use one of your fifty-million guns (slight exaggeration and the smile has slipped a little from my face) Hubby: You’ve told me before you wanted a gun (holding empty hands up pretending to hold a shotgun/rifle). It’s pink. Me (getting really scared now): Okay, A) A pink gun would make me want it even less B) You’re indicating that you got me a shotgun or a rifle and the only gun I’ve ever pointed out to you was a shiny black hand gun and C) what, in four years of our marriage would tell you I would want a pink gun over a handbag or a pair of shoes? Hubby (really looks hurt now): But we can go shooting together. Me (trying to keep my composure): But we already do that, with your guns. Please tell me you’re joking about the gun. Hubby: (Silence) But I already bought it. One week before my birthday. (A conversation between me and my dear friend and co-worker, Janice) Me: So I think Hubby got me a gun for my birthday. (I proceed to recount the story of the our kitchen conversation to her) Janice: No! (covers mouth with hands) Me: Yup. And it’s pink. Janice: Do they even make pink guns? Me: Unfortunately, yes. Google it. Janice: (Googles pink guns, then cracks up laughing) I think that would be great if he got you a pink gun. Me: It’d be horrible! Janice (trying to control her laughter, for my sake): Well, does Hubby ever lie to you? Me: He lies to me about movie endings all the time. Likes to tell me main characters die when they don’t. Janice: Maybe he’s lying to you about this, too. Me: I doubt it. He seemed pretty hurt when I told him I didn’t want a gun for my birthday. Do you think it’d be against my wifely duty if I returned the gun and got something I actually wanted? Janice: Not at all. It might hurt his feelings though. Me: (weighing the cost of Hubby’s hurt feelings in one hand and a nice, new pair of shoes and handbag in the other. Style wins). Car ride home with Hubby that day. Me: I had a funny conversation with Janice today. (Proceed to tell Hubby about conversation) Hubby (very stoically): Would you really be upset if I got you a gun for your birthday? Me: I’d be disappointed. I don’t want a gun for my birthday. Hubby: It’s your fault, ya know. You didn’t give me any ideas about what to get you. Me: Yes I did, I told you ‘nothing’. Or a billion dollars. Hubby: You should’ve told me what you wanted. Me: Would you be upset if I returned it and bought something else? Hubby: You can’t return guns. And your gift is custom made. Me: But I can sell it. You really got me a gun? Hubby: You didn’t tell me what you wanted. Every minute of every day of the week leading up to my birthday and the day of. Me: Dear God, Please let me be grateful and joyful when I open up that box and see that ugly pink gun. Please don’t let my selfish attitude take away from Hubby’s apparent joy with what he got me. P.S. Please don’t let it be a pink gun. Amen. The day of. Bodies present: Yours truly, Hubby, Coleslaw and Maribelle.

Coleslaw: (holding camera, shooting pictures) Me: I like this. It’s good practice for when I become rich and famous and I’m being hounded by the Paparazzi. Maribelle (videotaping entire event): Are you ready? Me: I guess (smile) Hubby: Here you go (Places a gift bag the size of a large shoebox on the table in front of me. Roughly the size of a box a gun would fit into. After that, he moves to the back of the room, out of hitting range). Me: (reading the cutest card ever) Thanks, Hubby. (Then I go to the gift. I prepare to be happy no matter what, and pull out my custom made gift.) I love it!

Apparently Hubby had a big scheme all cooked up. He knew a couple of people who owned pink guns and was going to wrap it and give it to me and then “video tape you opening it and get you crying on camera.” Gee, thanks.

But, his plan fell through and he couldn’t get the gun in time. Darn. It’s a good thing, though, because I probably would have been too sad at getting the gun to fully appreciate the real gift, a handmade quilt by Maribelle! Isn’t it just beautiful? I love it.

The birthday fun isn’t over yet. Oh no! Since I was on my stricter-than-strict diet (16.6 pounds/17.5 inches lost so far in just 23 days) on my birthday, dinner was postponed for this coming weekend at an amazing Brazilian place (celebrating 3 birthdays with 17 adults and 2 wee ones). Still no more sweets for the next 3 weeks but I can have butter again! And creamer for my coffee! All in all it was a good birthday.


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