Friday, May 7, 2004

Homework -- Memorable Birthday Presents

I don't know about you guys, but I like that Scalzi posts the weekend homework on Thursdays.  Gives me a day or so to think about it in advance.  Maybe the rest of you have memories at your fingertips or something, but I had to cull through a lot of gift memories before I settled on these.

Weekend Assignment #4: Share the most memorable birthday present you've ever gotten -- or given (extra credit for both).

Most memorable present I've ever gotten was a gift from an online friend (who does not read this journal).  She sent me a coffee mug and some gourmet coffee.  She didn't know I don't drink coffee.  Hate the smell of the stuff.  None of my friends ever offer me coffee and most ask if I mind if they're going to drink it -- like I'm gonna get sick from second-hand-java or something.  So, anyway, this very sweet internet friend knows nothing about this and sends me coffee.  And she's very young, and very unemployed, and I'm really touched that she went to the effort and expense, even though the coffee itself was, um, destined to be regifted at the soonest opportunity.  I've met her in person several times since, and every time, I've always made sure my family members or friends with me pretended I didn't hate coffee, so as not to let her know I didn't actually use the gift.  So, yeah, the gift that spawned a five-year lie -- it's pretty memorable.

Most memorable gift I've given was actually a Mother's Day gift rather than a birthday gift, but since it is Mother's Day weekend, I'll tell it anyway.  Rewind to me being about 12 years old.  My parents had tickets to see a musical -- they were going with some other couple.  I thought this was totally unfair -- my dad didn't like musicals at all (he was quoted as saying the highest praise he could show a musical was staying awake through it) whereas I loved them.  There didn't seem to be much of a point in him seeing a musical with mom rather than me seeing it with her.  (I, of course, ignored the fact that, being 12, I probably wasn't an ideal companion from their friends' point of view.)  So, the day of the show rolls around and mom gets sick -- guess which 12 year old ends up going as dad's date.  Right.  I went, I saw the show, I had a blast (dad even stayed awake).  And when I got home, I felt a little guilty about it.  'cause, I mean, I had really wanted to go see the show, and the Fates arranged it so I could, but mom had to miss it (and deal with getting the flu, besides) so the whole thing seemed not quite right.  Mother's Day was coming up, and the show was still running, so I counted up all my babysitting money and bought a pair of tickets.  (I had to enlist one of mom's friends to help, so that she could order the tickets on her credit card.)  I gave 'em to mom -- requesting, of course, to be her date.  So she and I ended up seeing the show together after all (like we were supposed to) and it began a tradition of us buying theatre tickets for each other that continued (as it happens) to this day.

4 comments:

fisherkristina said...

That is so funny, the gift that spawned a five-year-lie!  And you are SO sweet what you did for your mother.  What a beautiful tradition you carry on every year!  

Visit my journal to read about the most memorable gift I have ever given (a headless Barbie Doll to my Dad)    
http://journals.aol.com/fisherkristina/SometimesIThink/  

andreakingme said...

Aw, NZ! That's a GREAT memory. Thanks for sharing it.

tammyg22 said...

Speaking of birthdays, my sister and I were talking, and she reminded me about the time we kidnapped you and took you to San Diego.  (She was particularly struck by "the one on the right!", but I digress.)  She thinks that we blindfolded you in the house and kept you that way all the way down to SD, to hide the fact that Kim was in the car.  I don't actually remember--is that right?  How did we finally tell you she was there?  And, errr, any suggestions?

nzforme said...

I think she's right -- I know I was blindfolded for a good bit of the road trip.  Perhaps I guessed Kim was there and you pulled the blindfold at that point?  (That was WAY fun.  I very nearly wrote it up here, except I couldn't remember the details.)