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10:19 a.m. - 2009-12-22
I don't know how to gift him.

This morning's earworm is 'Dancing Fool' by Frank Zappa. Yowza, yowza, yowza.

Oy, Mick is at that stage in life where there's nothing to get him. Sure, there's things, but nothing amazing and wonderful. Nothing I can come up with that'll spark a whole new hobby or fulfill some lifelong yearning. Like a lot of men he's been pretty good at buying himself all the toys and treats he's ever wanted. Guys do that. Be it a Sawz-all or Rock-Em Sock-Em Robots from the 1970s, when a guy wants something he just trots off to the store or eBay and buys it for himself. I rather envy that about men. Happily Mick isn't one of those guys whose watch quits on Dec 12 and he runs off and immediately buys a new one, if some basic need like that went fubar he'd be smart enough to let me buy him a replacement for Christmas. Unfortunately, that kind of thing- a necessity that can also be a good gift- doesn't come up very often. The only thing he really wants (at all, not just for Christmas) is a new phone. Our phone plan rolls over in April and we can get upgraded for phones for stupid cheap then, so buying him one now is dopey.

I am stubborn about replacing my phone. I like my little flip-phone. Those smart phones seem awkward to me. It's the shape. I'd feel dumb using one, like I'm holding a remote control or a waffle to my head. My phone feels like a phone. When flipped open it has a place for my ear and then curves down to my mouth. Like an old fashioned phone handset. It's phone shaped. Holding that dippy box thing to my head? Nope. Too weird. Besides, I hardly use my phone anyhow. Plus, it already has the one app I need, it makes and receives calls. I don't need (or want) my phone to give me directions, or play 'Gone With the Wind' on its 1"x1" screen, or chirp at me all day every time Ashton Kutcher sends a tweet. I don't know from texting, nor do I really want to. I carry a wee electronic Yahtzee game in my purse, so the rare times I need to amuse myself (waiting for an appointment, etc) and don't have anything to read, I play with it. No reason to have some schmancy electronic touch screen waffle.

Phone Luddite? Maybe. But I'm one of those nutty people who can drive her car, grocery shop, and attend a movie without ever, ever needing to run my mouth the entire time. I live in the moment. Crazily paying attention to the road, the movie, where I'm steering my grocery cart. Yammer, yammer, I loathe the constant talkers. I've yet to overhear a single phone conversation that had any urgency. At the mall yesterday all I heard was, "Yeah, so I'm outside Penney's. Uh huh, now I'm passing the jewelers…" This one pair of ditzes were actually speaking to each other on the phone in Old Navy. They were inside the same store and instead of crossing the 10 feet to speak into each other's faces they were talking ON THE PHONE. Only the thought of spending Christmas in the county lock-up on an assault charge kept me from beating the crap out of both of them.

Short meditation break for LA to recover her temper.

Ahh…so where was I originally? Oh yes, wondering what to get Mick for Christmas that would really flip his wig. I know the day draweth nigh, and that he'll be fine with the few goodies I've already gotten him, but just once I'd like to dazzle him. He, ridiculously (but sweetly) insists that life with me is a wonderful gift in and of itself. Whopped upside the head with happiness, he is. No additions necessary. Mick says my agreeing to be his wife is winning the Life Lotto, riches beyond measure, nothing else ever needed. (Shut. Up. He truly means it.) Which is all very satisfying and ego poofing, but it does make gift-giving rather a problem. Perhaps I'll just stick a bow on my forehead and lie down under the tree.

Be good for a laugh anyhow.


Problem solved, ~LA

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