The C.S.O. and I have been together for 28 years. By contemporary standards, that’s a long time. In truth, it has presented certain challenges. One of these arises from gift-giving: after so many birthdays, anniversaries, Saint Valentine’s Days, and Christmases, one can easily come to feel that one has exhausted all the possible kinds of gifts one can give one’s sweetie.
I’ve given her clothes.
I’ve given her shoes.
I’ve given her saucy lingerie.
I’ve given her jewelry (of course).
I’ve given her perfume.
I’ve given her mink coats.
I’ve given her a Kindle® and a NOOK®.
I’ve given her chocolates.
I’ve given her gift certificates for spa days (which she says “went well with the chocolates”).
I’ve even given her cars – five of ‘em, in fact – and she’s racked up an aggregate of 580,000 miles on them, which suggests that they were well appreciated.
And this past week, as an all-important gift-giving occasion loomed, I racked my brain for something I hadn’t yet given her. Something new and exciting. Something that might just (maybe, possibly) reignite the old fire.
And in my peregrinations I stumbled upon a most unusual possibility.
Long Island has many good points, but its roads and traffic are not among them. Well, yesterday afternoon I was suffering a backup on one of our “connecting roads” – mostly they connect one traffic jam to another, but that’s a tirade for another time – when I spied a commercial establishment of a sort I hadn’t yet considered. So I pulled out of the stream of largely motionless vehicles, found a parking space, and ventured inside.
And there, I found the perfect gift:
That’s a Mossberg Type 590 “Shockwave,” in .410 gauge. The pump will hold five rounds. Light, easy to handle, very low recoil. Perfect for dealing with importunate solicitors and the occasional politician. Its only demerit was that the store doesn’t gift-wrap. I had to do that myself.
Yes, Beth was pleased. But what was the gift-giving occasion, I hear you ask? Excuse me? You’re not aware that yesterday was Yom Kippur? I always give my kinda-sorta-Jewish wife something on Yom Kippur! It soothes the agonies from all the atoning she has to do.
Try it on your sweetie! (No, she doesn’t have to be Jewish.)
7 comments:
Good choice Fran! I also have a kinda-sorta-Jewish wife. She happens to be a good shot and greatly appreciated the two firearms I have gifted her. I vaguely recall a comment from her regarding the use of her Ruger 38 cal if I strayed from our marital promises. Before that it was, "you don't want to be known as Bill Bobbit".
Maybe she'd like a Bug-A-Salt for indoor fun. Now, truth to tell, my wife doesn't care for it much herself, and she won't let me keep it at the dinner table. But it's still fun, and has myriad advantages over a simple fly swatter.
JWM
Women seem to like shotguns, I've noticed. Especially pumps. She might be disappointed when trying that thing out at the range, though - hard to hit anything. That's when you add a real buttstock...
Next year I suggest a gift certificate for a bungee jumping experience.
Isn't there some prohibition, in the general, that says, don't buy the rope to hang yourself with?
I'm not suggesting anything, but when my partner told me that if she were still alive at 60 she was going to hire a hitman. To which I asked on favor: make sure I have an alibi.
Her response was: what fun would that be?
Just make sure she self-loads is all I have to say.
A few years ago I got my wife a revolver for her birthday. A few liberals I know tut-tutted, but she loved it, and got me a shotgun for our anniversary.
A damned fine gift if you ask me. Congrats, Fran, and many happy returns for you both.
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