Oh You Shouldn't Have,,,No, Really You Shouldn't Have

Gifts. Not a big fan of getting them, but love to give them. If it's your birthday, or Christmas, or Opening Day and a gift is needed, I'm your person. I have a knack for finding or making the perfect gift. But getting gifts, not so much. Knowing I am getting a gift (or worse, being surprised with a gift) sends waves of terror through me. Why? Because I have been the recipient of so many really bad gifts that I fear I will someday be unable to feign pleasure or surprise. Someday I will actually exhibit signs of total disappointment, disgust, or reveal how much I dislike what I have been given. I feel the day of reckoning is closing in. Then what?

Like most of us I have had my share of bad gifts. Well-intentioned, but bad. Fortunately I have found ways to control this and reduce my disappointment. How? When someone asks me what I want, I tell them. (Imagine that) This works particularly well with my husband. I give him a detailed list. Color, size, viscosity, model number, shelf life, etc. Not only do I give him the list, I tell him where to find it and, when possible, give him its exact location in the store. Providing pictures cut from a magazine or a sales circular also works. Now, this technique is not foolproof. Even though he is a left-brained, linear thinker who basically sees the world in black and while or yes and no he occasionally gets adventurous and improvises. (naughty naughty boy) For example, he will change the color ("I thought you'd like the purple one!"), or the quantity ("When this one wears out you'll have a spare!")and, sometime he buys something off-list. As a result of his off-list adventures I own such treasures as a fancy knife sharpener ("You always complain that the knives aren't sharp!")a vibrating foot massager (could be useful if my regular vibrator has dead batteries)and a really BIG ugly Coach bag that has never seen the light of day.

My ex mother in law, the Queen of Crafts, once made me a seaside scene that featured crab shells she had rescued from my dinner plate. In an effort to outdo herself she later made me two paper mache heads of a Granny and a Gramps, individually mounted on slabs of driftwood and sporting rusted chain links to ensure that I could easily hang the happy couple on my wall. How special is that?

My brother (back when we actually had a relationship) used to be the King of Kitsch. Totally unable to walk past a pre-Christmas display of useless gifts (pre-wrapped, of course)He once chose me to be the recipient of a Walking Hand. This little device featured a white hand, palm up, attached to a motorized based that enabled the hand to slide across the "bar" and deliver a drink. wow. As an extra bonus gift he also included another table device that featured drops of colored oil that fell at measured intervals on to a ladder-like gizmo - the point of which was to mesmerize me. Mesmerize is not the word I would have chosen.

In college I dated this wonderful guy who kept talking up the birthday present he was having made for me. He talked about it all the time. (Note: this is NOT a good sign)I only knew that it was some form of jewelry and that it contained a stone that was important to him. He told me repeatedly that once he gave this to me that "everyone would know how much he loved me". Of course I envisioned a ring with a nice shiny stone. Yea, right. When the big day came I was beside myself with anticipation. The box was small - that was good. And when I popped open the top I was speechless. It was definitely not a ring. It was, well, I guess you could call it a charm. He designed it (thank God he did not go into jewelery design)and I hated it on sight. Imagine a gold disk, slightly larger than a quarter. in the center was a smaller raised disk (are you yawning yet?)and inside that was a shiny black stone and an itty bitty diamond chip. On the back he engraved "Love, ---". I wore it on a chain around my neck but I would have preferred to shove it someplace else. That's okay cause this guy, after dating me for 2 years, went home one weekend, met another girl, dumped me and married her two months later. I never asked him what was so important about that black stone. Maybe it was a kidney stone - one he passed while experiencing excruciating pain...yea, I kind of like that idea. It gives much more meaning to the stone.

I don't want to gloss over the good gifts I've received. There have been many. But they have been random. And while random is fine for numbers, it is not so fine for gifts. My favorite random gift was a long sleeved black tee shirt emblazoned with the words "Mrs. Banderas". It was from my friend Judy. Judy gets me. That is why she is my friend. (I still wear this shirt because I am convinced that someday Antonio Banderas will leave Melanie for me. Someday.) Two years ago my ex-husband bought me an Ipod for Christmas. This was an extraordinary acknowledgement that he had actually heard me everytime I whined about not having one. (Whining is too subtle for my real husband...he just hears the whining part)I'm not sure he would have heard me if we'd still been married. A divorce perk, I guess. A former boyfriend surprised me with a gorgeous garnet ring I had been coveting. So, yea, there have been good gifts.

You're probably thinking that I'm selfish and rude. Or that I should remember it's the thought that counts, not the gift. I would probably agree with both of those. But lets face it, sometimes it's hard to discern the thought behind a Walking Hand let alone a shiny kidney stone mounted on a 14k gold quarter.