Tuesday, March 07, 2006
My annual headache
Mom's birthday is Thursday. She's gonna be 73.
Every year, without fail, I sit wherever I may be, stumped. I mull the same question over and over in my mind,
"What the hell am I gonna get her this year?"
A card? That's a given.
My mom's the patron saint of Hallmark. She loves buying and receiving cards. Mailing cards is the preferred method of delivery. And they must get there a day or so in advance. And they must be "appropriate".
I know, a lot of rules.
About 10,000 years ago, my brother, W, was stupid enough to buy the woman a "funny" birthday card. The front had a little cartoon fairy and it read, "Each year, the age fairy lightly taps you on your brithday to show you are a year older." The inside read, "Boy, she must have beaten the tar out of you." W was ostracized from all family gatherings for months.
This year, I actually got the woman something and it didn't cause a migraine. I sent her flowers.
Daisies to be exact. A basket full of multi-color daisies. That's her fave flower.
Normally, I don't do that. I just don't send flowers. It's a personal hang-up, I'm sure. They'll be delivered on Thursday. I put on the little notecard that the flowers were really from the Dinks. She'll like that.
Of course, I mailed her birthday card yesterday.