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« September 2006 |
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You both know it's corny, and neither of you would ever admit it aloud (not even to yourselves), but some of the "chick flicks" that find their way onto your TV screen on rainy Saturday afternoons actually stir something inside of you. Naturally, of course, you pretend to read your newspaper or do a crossword puzzle while the movie just so happens to be playing in the background. Each of you is way too engrossed in your other activity to notice that, from time to time, the other is sneaking peeks at the screen.
Neither of you could decide on a show. First, one of you had control of the remote, but flipped through all 562 channels in less than two minutes, claiming there was nothing on. Then, when the other insisted on making the rounds, and lingered for longer than a millisecond on this "stupid movie", that's what you settled on. Both of you grumbled about it, but, hey, you agreed that since you weren't really going to be watching anyway, and it was only on for some background sound, it didn't make much difference, did it?
While pretending not to be interested in the movie, you admit to yourself that, yeah, it's corny, but you really would like a moonlit walk on the beach. And despite your snide remarks about rose petals strewn across the bed, you think it would be nice if someone did that for you. Still, neither of you will go so far as to admit that last weekend you got choked up at the end of "Dirty Dancing" and cheered internally. "I saw you smiling!" one of you accuses. "Yeah, because it was finally over!" the other defends.
Who are you kidding, though? It's time to face up to it: you're a romantic sap! But you know what? No one has to know! Still, wouldn't it be lovely if you could confess to each other? Sure it would. But if you're not willing to actually say the words, "Honey, I was overjoyed when Baby finally trusted Johnny and leapt into his arms at the end of 'Dirty Dancing'," you can always express your romantic side by treating your love to a romantic weekend getaway, where, just like Baby and Johnny, you can have the time of your life.
He's got your nose (prominent). Her eyes (green). Your mother's stubborn streak (no comment) and her father's chin (minus the beard). He's the sweetest personalized gift in the world.
He's going to be the first man on Mars or Jupiter or whatever the latest planet to be discovered is. After he's done being a fireman, football player, and movie star (just look at that face!), of course.
"Isn't that right, baby?" you say to your wife, dripping a glob of ice cream from your spoon onto the floor she just wiped up after your beautiful new astronaut spit up on it about five minutes ago. But she just glares at you with those green eyes and mumbles something you're glad you can't hear.
Your friends with kids told you it was going to be hard, but you poo-poo'd them. Now the poo is on the other foot (and everywhere else!), and you silently agree with everything they told you. In fact, it's even harder than they said. A new baby isn't just kid's stuff! Even with Velcro, diaper-changing is a challenge. And the burping? The kid puts your football buddies to shame! And the little guy's a major night owl. Who knew?
The mama. That's who. Sure, you're getting up for some of the feedings and cryings and you're helping out around the house in ways you never knew you could, but when it comes right down to it, you're the biggest baby in the house! But if you think you need a break from all of this new craziness, just think about your wife. She carried the load for months before you, so take the load off of her and surprise her with the second best personalized gift in the world.
He stayed overtime to beat the deadline on a major project, even though he had tickets to the big game he'd been looking forward to for weeks and had already worked through lunch. Of course he grumbled, but only for the first few minutes. (You don't mind the grumbling. You'd worry if he didn't.) Then he rolled up his sleeves, literally, shouted a ridiculous, "Let's get this party started!", slapped you a high five, and got to work.
And work he did. He didn't stop until every "i" was dotted and every "t" was crossed. He didn't stop until his own eyes were crossed — not even when the pizzas arrived and everyone else (including you) left their desks to tackle the stack. The only time he took a break was for a trip to the men's room after what must have been his sixth cup of coffee. You were relieved, because you were honestly starting to wonder if he was some sort of freakish cyborg.
Talk about a corporate gift! This guy wore his fingers to the bone and the "n" off his crumb-free keyboard. He exceeded even your already high expectations of him. And this isn't an isolated incident. This is just the kind of guy he is.
And for this you're going to reward him with, what, an executive pen and pencil set in a brass and burled wood holder? He deserves a reward that doesn't remind him of how he earned it. Give him a unique gift — the gift of a weekend away. After all, this high-fiver deserves to take five. Or even ten.
She tells you the truth when you ask if the stylist cut off too much hair— but assures you it will look adorable in a few days, after it's had time to "settle". She nods her head in sympathy when you ask if those pants make your butt look big — but is quick to add that it's not your butt that's the problem, it's the pants. She treats you to lunch and a margarita or three after the salon debacle and the fitting room terror, and lets you flirt with the cute waiter even though she saw him first.
When that jerk dumped you two weeks after telling you you were the kind of girl he could fall in love with and you were a total basket case, she knew better than to bring over only one pint of ice cream. She brought three. One for you, one for her, and one for you "for later" (which she knew would be three minutes after she left your place). And that last piece of cake? She always lets you have the "bigger half".
She's seen you at your best, all glammed up for a night on the town with movie star red lips and your hair in a classic chignon — and at your worst, red-nosed and wheezing, surrounded by an enormous fortress of cold remedies, your hair in a ratty scrunchie. She's there for you, without you even having to ask her to be.
You take this all in stride, and figure it's all just part of being friends. Which it is. Sometimes, though, it's nice to be reminded of just how much of a gift her friendship is. A travel gift basket, full to brimming with personalized goodies selected just for her, is the perfect way to let her know.
Her eyes are closed. Her breath is bated. She's gripping the zipper pull on the fly of her favorite jeans in anticipation of its long-awaited journey. She counts to three (1, 2, 2-1/2, 2-3/8, 2-7/15 ...) — and then ... up ... up ... UP IT GOES! Without stopping! And not only that, but without the jerks and spasms she'd encountered one week ago today, when she stood in her bedroom doing the same exact thing at 6:42 a.m.
They fit! The jeans she HATES referring to as "my skinny jeans" fit! And not only that, but they fit in a way that she can actually be seen in public wearing them — without a sweater tied around her hips or a jacket to hide her behind behind! Not like three weeks ago when she tried to convince herself they were fine and that she would just have to back out of rooms rather than let anyone see the rear view.
To many people, this may seem like a pretty skimpy excuse to celebrate, but the two of you? Well, you can't think of a better reason for her to whoop it up. But why blow it all and sabotage her wonderful weight loss by taking her out to dinner, where the bread basket beckons? She deserves a unique gift, something as tailored to her as those "skinny jeans" now appear.
A travel Visa gift card is always fitting, and will give her the freedom to treat herself to whatever her heart desires (including jeans that now she can just call "jeans", without having to make the "skinny" differentiation). Ahhh, yes. Now this is truly worth the weight!
Every year on her birthday, for the past decade or so, your best friend has joked about being "over the hill". So every year, as part of your birthday gift idea, you brought a huge bouquet of colorful mylar balloons to her house, with those very words emblazoned across each balloon as a gentle reminder. You playfully punched her arm (one punch for each year she's been on the planet!). And of course you had to pinch her, too. Just one pinch, though, for extra emphasis and luck.
So this year you continue the traditional birthday gift idea. You bring the balloons. One hand is in punch position. Your fingers are in pinch mode. You make your whistling way to the elaborately decorated back yard, where the party is already in progress, and spy her off to the side, feverishly dabbing at a large spot on her dress. You figure that's the reason she's frowning.
"Happy birthday!" you shout as you approach her. Her frown turns into a grimace, complete with eye-roll. But you don't let her response deflate you. You tie the balloon bouquet to her special crepe-papered birthday chair at the head of the long picnic table and eye the cake with lip-licking approval.
She warns you to not even think about it, remembering that one year when you sliced a sliver off the far side of the cake, thinking no one would notice. She can't keep the smile out of her voice or off her face, remembering the chocolate crumbs lingering on your lips.
Minutes later, though, she doesn't laugh when the "trick" candles on this year's relight immediately upon being blown out. Or when someone asks where the fire extinguisher is. And when you eye her arm, she says, "Don't even think about it. Black and blue aren't my best colors."
You sit next to her as she tackles the stack of presents. And although she laughs at each successive gag gift, you hear her softly sigh. It's then that you're thrilled that this year you decided to forego your one usual frivolity and got her something she could actually use and that will ease her stress -- a weekend away. Not your ordinary birthday gift idea, but then again, this is no ordinary friend.
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