it's better to give than to receive

So it was Raoul's birthday today (Happy Birthday!), so a bunch of us all got together for a little BBQ, and it was a very nice time, although I was presented with an example of exactly why I have a strict policy about not dating anyone younger than me, and that's a whole other post in itself.

To get back on topic, I bought the first half of Raoul's birthday present a couple of weeks ago - I'm not actually that organized, it was just one of those things that I was there in the store, having a browse, and I saw it and knew he would like it, so I picked it up, and patted myself on the back for a job well done. Then I got it home, and started looking at it, and an idea occured to me as to how I could make that gift even better, and every day since, I've been keeping my eyes open for the requisite item(s). Finally, this morning, I woke up, and having still not found what I was looking for, decided that I would give it one last shot, and if I hadn't found it by 3pm, then I was giving up and buying the first half of the idea I'd had for his Christmas present instead.

By 3:30, (I was pushing it a little, I know), I still hadn't found it, but I had at least stopped by Hallmark and picked up an awesome card I'd seen a few months ago, and made a mental note to come back and get it when it was Raoul's birthday, and I ran into The Gargoyle who I haven't seen in forever, and he was nice enough to accompany me to the store to get the backup plan gift, aka Christmas Gift Part 1. I then hustled myself up to the market, bought a crazy (ie huge) amount of vegetables for a crazy (ie small) amount of money, and ran home, intent on wrapping the gift, signing the card, putting together a veggie tray, jumping on my bike, and going.

Problem the first: You can't really take a veggie tray on a bike. Luckily, I have the perfect tupperware for doing exactly that, and it fits nicely in my backpack, too.

Problem the second: I go to wrap the gift, open the closet where I thought I had put the item purchased several weeks ago, reached up for it, and got hold of a blanket instead. I looked under the blanket - not there. I looked in the other place I had thought about hiding it, and it wasn't in there, either. At this point, I tried to stop myself from panicking, and decided instead to do a methodical search of every closet, shelf, nook, and cranny in the house, one room at a time. Bedroom - nope. Office, such as it is - nope, and thank god, or it would have been covered in sawdust and stank of paint fumes. Bathroom - why would I hide anything in the bathroom? Kitchen - nope. Now, I panic. I run back to the living room, pull the closet apart, pull the storage ottoman apart (shut up, it looks good and holds things inside it), go back to the closet, pull everything out of the closet, where I am sure I put it, because that's where I hid all the Christmas gifts, and why change horses mid-stream, and still can't find it. At this point, not knowing what else to do, I left The poor Gland a frantic message, asking if she by any chance remembered what I'd done with it after I showed it to her, because that was the last time I remembered having it, and now I can't find it, and it's like less than half an hour before I have to leave, and I still haven't made my veggie tray, and it's just all going pear-shaped on me. I'm pretty sure The Gland will be laughing at me tomorrow, but that's OK, she laughs at me every day, and it's all good. I hung up, kicked most of the stuff back into the living room closet, and went into the bedroom, where I proceeded to give the closet there the same treatment, pillows and sweatshirts and painting clothes flying everywhere. Finally, finally, behind a box, on the floor, I spot it. Why did I hide it there? Who the hell knows. It'll give me something to think about as I clean up all these terrible messes tomorrow.

Problem the third: It's now about 10 minutes before I have to leave, and still, the gift is not wrapped and the veggies are not done. I run back into the kitchen, making sure to put all parts of the gift and the card on the kitchen table, pull out the veggies, and start washing and chopping like nobody's business. I banged out that veggie tray, packed it nicely in my backpack with three kinds of dip and a huge basket of strawberries, sat down at the kitchen table, and wrapped the gift. I wrapped it all nice, with tissue paper and a neat bag and everything, and it looked all pretty, fit that into my backpack too, grab my bike, and leave, only about 15 minutes later than planned.

I'm so, so pleased with myself as I cruise on down the street towards the party. I'm not even minding all the red lights I keep hitting as much as I might otherwise, mostly because there are about 90lbs of veggies strapped to my back, but also because it gives me a moment to reflect on my sheer awesomeness, that I faced adversity many times during the course of the day but managed to rise above it each time, and was rewarded with a nice surprise. I'm even more pleased when I get there and realize that no one else is there yet, just our generous hosts and the birthday boy himself. I go into the kitchen, and start pulling things out of my bag. I put the veggies and whatnot on the counter, and my gift bag on the table with the other gifts, and note one especially sharp-looking black gift bag with a nice white envelope poking out of it, and that's when it hits me: I forgot the card.

The just-weird-enough card I saw those many moons ago, and because I was short on cash that day, not to mention worried (apparently with good reason) about losing track of it in the meantime, decided to purchase at the last minute. The perfect card whose loving and witty inscription I had so carefully scripted in my head as I washed and chopped and arranged vegetables. The untouched card that was sitting on my kitchen table at that very moment.

I felt so bad.

Raoul, being the good sport that he is, shrugged it off, told me to mail it to him, cracked a joke, and I felt - well, still really bad, but I decided to just let it go and buy stamps tomorrow and have that be that, and then people started arriving, and we went downstairs to start stuffing ourselves, as apparently all of us who brought food brought enough for three times as many people as we actually were.

After the food, it was gift time, and as is customary, cards were opened, read, and passed around the table for inspection (why do we do that, anyhow? Do we for some reason suspect the person reading the cards aloud of making it all up as they go along, and we need to make sure that the card doesn't really say "Roses are red, violets are blue, you have a fat head, and you stink of poo," or something?), and the accompanying gifts then opened, admired, and also passed around the table for closer viewing. One gift was opened, then another, then out came one with a familiar-looking envelope sticking out of it. "Impossible," I told myself. "That card was so weird, no one else would have picked it up, these are all normal people. You're the only freak here. It's probably one of the other cards from that line, and there are many."

The flap of the envelope opened, and I held my breath.

Torturously slowly, the card was wiggled back and forth and slid out of its envelope, and after what seemed like ten minutes, a corner of it was free, and I leaned in, and my world fell to pieces around my ears.

It was the exact same card as the one still sitting on my kitchen table.

So now here I sit, consoling myself with how happy Raoul seemed to be with his half-gifts (half a birthday gift and half a Christmas gift) even though there was no card, and with the fact that he seemed to really like the card that wasn't forgotton by anyone else so at least I know I chose well; and trying to figure out exactly how I'm going to explain this to the good people at Hallmark tomorrow when I go to exchange the card, and trying to decide if it's more embarassing that I forgot the card at home, or if it would have been more embarassing for two of us to have actually given the same card, and I just don't know anymore.