Posts Tagged ‘gifts’

That only a Mother can love.

When I was younger, my dad and I went out shopping for Mother’s Day.  Maybe it was Christmas.  I don’t know.  This is Mother’s Day so it was a Mother’s Day gift.  Dammit, Jim, I’m just an eye doctor!

My mom wanted a new lamp for our end table in the family room.  The one she had still worked.  Neither my dad nor I could understand why a perfectly good lamp needed to be replaced.  Seriously . . .do you change the bulb before it burns out?  But I digress.

So we went in search of a lamp.  At a furniture store–which also sold “accessories.”  It really wouldn’t have mattered if we went to a lamp store.  We were both clueless if we couldn’t find it in the hardware store.  And even then . . .

After wandering around with glazed looks on our eyes, a sale person finally took pity on us and helped us find a lamp.

Neither my dad nor I could find anything wrong with the lamp.  It looked nice next to the display furniture that looked nothing like our family room, but we could kind of picture it on the end table.  Who am I kidding?  The sales clerk said it was a nice lamp.  We were getting hungry and woozy.  Therefore . . . it was perfect.

My dad questioned the price, because it was apparently more than what he wanted to spend on a lamp.

The lady explained to him that the lamp was actually sold as a set of TWO lamps.

My dad told her we only wanted one.

She explained that this was not the way lamps were sold.

He explained that we only had one end table and one lamp to replace on that end table.  (He also explained that the current lamp worked just fine, and he was still unsure why we were here.)

She would have to check with her manager.

Breaking Up is apparently hard to do.

Breaking Up is apparently hard to do.

After  what seemed like days of debating to a teenager who would rather be home watching TV and filling my young mind with important things, the manager finally relented and sold my dad ONE lamp–for slightly more than half price.  This apparently was an accord of epic proportions like the Sadat-Begin Treaty (which I believe was going on around this time–eventually signed in September of 1978.)  You would have thought we were breaking up Sonny and Cher!  But I digress.

I think we also wrapped up the scissors in the box.  The paper mostly stayed on until she opened it.

She loved the lamp!  Success!

But then she looked around and with the most curious look on her face, she asked, “where’s the other lamp?”

My dad replied that we only needed one for the one end table.  This was it.

“But they usually come as a set.  I want to put the other one over there.”

My mom did eventually get the other lamp.  The sales clerk at the same furniture store that sold her the unmatched lamp to the one she had told her this amusing story about the two guys that refused to buy both lamps.  They didn’t think they’d ever be able to sell this odd one, and they were thrilled my mom was willing to buy it by itself.  My mom didn’t mention my dad or I.  I’m pretty sure she pretended she didn’t know us.  The store clerks may still be laughing about this in their retirement.

So here is my Daily Prompt letter to Mom:

Dear Mom:

          It was all dad’s fault.

          I love you.


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I’m not really sure I understand the concept of Valentine’s Day.  Maybe the problem is that I just don’t understand women.  I don’t, but there’s not enough blog space to get into that.

Apparently, some dude, maybe Rudy Valentino, became known for making women extremely happy one day out of the year, namely, February 14.  We don’t know exactly how this happened, but like any great myth, what probably started as something simple, like accidentally telling his wife that he loved her, blossomed into some folklore tradition, whereupon men must somehow transmutate into romantic storybook lovers satisfying their woman’s every fantasy and desire for one day.  Then, Hallmark got a hold of it and . . .well, you know the rest.  So now it is one of the great burden’s of modern man (amongst others are mall shopping, being sensitive, scented inserts in magazines, Home Interiors, and La Maz.)

But this year, my wife and I decided to be practical.  With the bad economy, lower medicare reimbursement, my daughter starting college and a second teenager getting a driver’s license, we decided not to exchange gifts.  No.  Really.  After all, flowers just die, we don’t need the extra calories in chocolate although that has nothing to do with our current weight status, and my wife actually doesn’t care much for jewelry–she doesn’t usually wear any.

But then I came across this really neat Penn State vase of blue and white flowers, so I thought I would surprise her anyway.  After all, we are Penn State fans although truth be told, the gift was mostly for me.

Alas, when I got on-line last Friday, thinking I still had plenty of time until Tuesday, I discovered that the earliest delivery date was February 21st.  Surprise!  (Jazz hands.)

So then I heard on the radio that Martin’s (our local supermarket) had chocolate-covered strawberries for Valentine’s Day.  I wanted to pick up a card for her anyway, so off I went.  I generally loathe supermarkets, and today was no exception.  After wandering the aisles aimlessly searching for chocolate-covered strawberries, I finally stopped and asked a guy selling flowers.  Yes, ladies, I was soooo desperate I stopped for directions!

He said:  Um, I think they have strawberries in produce, and there’s chocolate in the candy aisle.

As I sit here typing this now, I even wonder if he worked there.

Seriously?  Do I look like Betty Crocker?  Can you picture me microwaving Hershey Bars and trying to smear the mess on some strawberries?  Okay, maybe you can.   But would you eat them?  I didn’t know there was going to be some assembly required.  Turns out, after inquiring at the bakery, that the store does NOT have chocolate-covered strawberries this year.  Must have been a frost or a chocolate fungus or something catastrophic like that.  I either heard the advertisement wrong, or well, I must have heard the advertisement wrong.  Maybe it was Wal-Mart.  And I am not going there!

I did get her a card.  And I fully intended to buy her some strawberries.  And flowers.  It’s the thought that counts, right?

Yeah.  That’s right up there with those myths like size doesn’t matter and money can’t buy you happiness.

So in the end, as agreed, I gave her nothing for Valentine’s Day.

I wonder if she’ll wear it to bed tonight.

Naw.  She’d probably rather have the strawberries.

But I still wuv her.

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