Sheebie's Giftmas

Friends and Kitties!

Sheebie here.

Buying a gift for Scott is nearly an impossible feat.  A) he never knows what he'd like, and B) as soon as he figures it out he buys it himself.  Occasionally I'll get lucky and present him with a tin of kipper snacks or a tube of lip balm the lack of which he was unaware, but for the most part I steer clear of the gifting quagmire.  Myself, on the other hand, am an easy recipient.  I like everything.  There are very few things I've received from Scott in all the years we've been married that I consider to be "dud" gifts.  (And I will never, on pain of death, reveal which ones they are so don't bother asking.)  It sounds sort of one-sided but for us, it works.

I should state that we don't celebrate any traditional holidays at our house.  We did away with Christmas in 1997--long story involving a trip to Mexico--Scott hates birthday fuss, I detest "lovey" days, and our families live conveniently far enough away to prevent easy get-togethers.  Additionally, I work most holidays (at double-time-and-a-half) by choice.  We do take note of my birthday, mainly because I parade around for weeks crowing things like "next week is my birthday", "it's my birthday" and "do you know what today is?  It's the day after the day after my birthday!"  Scott is an intelligent man, and reacts appropriately to maintain marital harmony.

And some of his best gifts cost nothing except his dignity.

Friday I was at work with my swollen up cat-bitten hand and feeling pretty miserable.  I would have taken time off except it's the holidays and I just didn't feel right about sticking my co-workers with an extra shift, so I'm grousing through the day, having a craptacular solo pity party when I get an email from Scott, who had just set up our indoor bike-riding doohickey* and sent me some photos:

I almost wet my pants laughing.

Of course I immediately called him, and he said that besides putting together the riding thingummy he'd also done all  my house chores and he'd make dinner (pizza!) too.  Well.  My day got a lot better despite my lame hand, and I slogged through the remainder of work in a vastly improved frame of mind--and when I got home I saw that Scott had been harvesting the lemon tree and picked a few dozen more for me--he knew I wouldn't be able to snip them off for a few days.  I've been slicing and dehydrating them a dozen at a time for my tea, and he knows that I want to get them done while they're at their peak.  But that wasn't the real gift.

This was: 

How about these melons...er...lemons?

Pin-up cheesecake!

Naughty or Nice?

Scott sometimes drives me crazy, but where else in the world would I find a man who puts lemons in his shirt just to make me laugh?   Furthermore, how do you go about screening a possible mate for that sort of thing? I don't suppose internet dating services ask you about your fruit placement preferences, or maybe they do, depending on the site.  Anyway, that's besides the point.  My point is that all of us, just by our very existence, are a gift, to somebody.  As you are all to me, reading my ramblings--my present to you.  I wish you all a Very Happy Whatever, Whenever.

Happy Sunday, and Have a Laugh This Week!

XX  Sheebie  XX

*This came up on spellcheck!  I only had one "O" in there.  Who knew?

pee ess:  The hand is doing much better!