Today we celebrated Kathy’s birthday, and also Sarah’s birthday. This year Sarah showed her colors as a birthday ‘player’ — aware that the day is personally special and able to anticipate it, days in advance. On the first of July, she woke up early and tip-toed around the house, turning all the wall calendars to July, giggling happily. She even snuck into the boys’ room as they slept, and turned their calendar forward from June.
Sarah received a number of delightful presents, and was overjoyed to receive each and every one. She is a very satisfying gift recipient, gasping and wide-eyed with wonder almost before she knows what it is.
Kathy has been hinting for quite a while that she would really like to have a set of patio furniture.
“I’d really like a set of patio furniture. Here’s the specific one; I clipped the ad from Fred Meyer (they’re open until 9), and here are your keys,” she hinted. She’s always been a little coy and hard to read about these kind of things.
“Hmmmm. Are you sure we really need it?” My first line of defense is usually to pretend that I didn’t hear her, but I could sense that wouldn’t work in this case. “That’s an awful lot of money … what would Dave Ramsey say?”
Kathy was unimpressed by my attempt to name-drop. “Dave who? So, anyway, wouldn’t a new set of patio furniture be a better use for that money you’ve been hoarding, than for some stupid computer?”
This was the crux of the matter. I earned about $600 recently doing some side work for a friend, and I’ve been, for lack of a better word, hoarding it to buy a new computer. Our newest computer is almost three years old, which is shameful for a person in my line of work. Besides, there are a lot of games I can’t play with my current setup.
“There is no way I’m giving up that new computer! I’ve scrimped and hoarded at least three or four times, and each time, something more important comes up. Not this time!” The children had gathered as I bellowed, admiring my example of selfless sacrifice. Undaunted, I was firm in my resolve: nothing was going to stop me from buying that new computer.
Several weeks later, I stood in the garden department of a Fred Meyer, across town. My stonewalling had produced one effect: the stores near me had all gleefully sold out of the patio furniture Kathy wanted. “Curses!” I groused. With the help of a friendly clerk, I found one remaining set of patio furniture in a store in the next city over. Using a borrowed van, I bought it and thoughtfully stored the roomful of boxes in a friend’s living room. “It’ll be great,” I enthused, ignoring the way the boxed furniture hid the couch. “You’ll hardly even notice its there, har har.” Later, I heard that my friend’s children used the boxes to make a big fort, so maybe it was OK.
This morning I quietly unloaded the seats from the van and retrieved the patio set from my friend’s house under cover of early-morning mist. I must have been rather convincing in my bluster about not buying the furniture, because Kathy seemed pretty surprised. Joshua and I spent a good bit of the day assembling it, but it seems to have been well-appreciated. We lined up the first four chairs as though they were the thrones at Cair Paravel, and there was much squabbling among the children about which seat was King Peter’s, or Lucy’s.
Kathy’s friend Michelle generously took her out for a pedicure and lunch at their favorite Thai restaurant, which rounded out the day nicely.
Later in the day a few of Kathy’s friends came over for a low-key garden party that I had secretly engineered via Evite. I served fruit and cookies, and Joshua officiated as a Viking waiter. We both agreed that his horned helmet lent a certain dignity to the proceedings.
In the evening Kathy made us a delicious steak and potato dinner, and finished decorating a cake for Sarah. A good day was had by all.
Tim
Project 366, Day 198
