OH, GHOD! :eek:
Every year, the members of the family put our names in a hat, & draw out the name of the person we’re gonna give presents to.
This, year, Mom drew me!
---------------------Flashback------------------------------
I was 18, that Xmas. I had asked for a book from Mom:
The Soft Machine.
Mom, being cool, has never even tried to censor our reading materials.
I saw a beautiful, leather-bound, gilt edged edition in the bookstore.
Mom is a brilliant shopper–for food. I have seen her bring home $485 worth of food for $25, after coupons & rebates.
But, when she shops for gifts it’s another matter.
She goes to the first store she thinks may have the item.
If they don’t have the item, does she go elsewhere?
No.
Does she special-order the gift.
Never.
She picks something approximately correct.
Xmas Morn
The package looks like a book.
Oh boy, oh boy ohboyohboyohboy! It’s The Soft Machine!
I open it.
Its…
Black Beauty.
My eyes glaze.
“Black Beauty?” I croak.
Mom, smiliing beatifically–" Yes Dear! It’s about a horse."
*Head swimming.
Remember, Mommy nursed you through two years of childhood asthma. TWO YEARS! You cannot say things like this to Mommy.*
She went to the right store, looked at the correct display case, remembered I wanted a leather-bound book with gilt edges, saw they were out of The Soft Machine, & got something approximately right. Black Beauty.
Mommy is buying me a Xmas present again this year. <eyes glazing> <whimper>