Happy Birthday Honey

My wife had a milestone birthday last week (her XXth - and no, that's not roman numerals for 20th). We've reached that point in our relationship where we tell each other what we want for presents, and then pretend to be surprised when we get it. For example, last year for my birthday she gave me a new rifle scope. I'm pretty particular about my scopes, so I gave her all the info and she toddled down to our local gun shop, picked one up, and had it mounted and bore-sighted. I was quite pleased.

I knew her birthday was coming up. I started asking her well in advance what she wanted. All during our vacation I kept pestering her for ideas. I never got a straight answer, so I was forced to take matters into my own hands.

Her birthday was the day after we got back from vacation. I had to go up to Burnet that day, about a two hour drive. On the way back I stopped at the Marble Falls Wal-Mart and got a card and their finest bouquet of roses (hey, nothing but the best for my woman).

A little further down the road in Johnson City I stopped at one of my favorite places - Whittington's General Store. They sell a variety of goodies. Nothing fancy, but a nice assortment of local specialties such as beauty products made from the lavender that's grown around there, salsa, preserves, gourmet coffee, a small selection of trinkets and jewelry, and of course their house specialty - beef jerky. I gathered together a hodgepodge of lotions, coffee, a picture frame, a nice little necklace, and a few packages of jerky. The pleasant saleslady put it all together in a gift bag along with some gaily colored tissue paper. I figured between all that stuff, plus the card and roses, plus a bottle of champagne I had chilling at home, I was golden.

All went well at first. She liked the card, oohed and aahed over the roses, sipped the champagne, and then started looking around expectantly. I brought out the gift bag and her eyes lit up. She liked the lotions and coffee, loved the necklace and picture frame, was okay with the coffee, and then pulled out the jerky. Things went rapidly downhill at that point.

"BEEF JERKY!?!?! It's my XXth birthday and you get me BEEF JERKY!?!?!"

"But honey, I kept asking you what you wanted, and you never told me."

"We've been married long enough that you're supposed to KNOW what I want without asking. And I don't want BEEF JERKY!

"But honey, what about all the other things I got you?"

"They're okay, but you spoiled it by adding BEEF JERKY! What makes you think I wanted BEEF JERKY? I don't even like BEEF FRIGGIN' JERKY!"

At that point I feel back on the advice my father gave me the day we got married. "Son, remember these four sentences. They'll save you a lot of grief."

1. You're absolutely right, dear.
2. It's all my fault.
3. How could I have been so thoughtless.
4. It'll never happen again.

So I dutifully grovelled and opened another bottle of champagne. That calmed her down enough that the dogs came out from behind the couch and the kids ventured back into the room.

Women. Can't live with 'em, and can't leave 'em on the curb when you're done.

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Actually, she wasn't mad. She was laughing while she ranted about the jerky. It just makes a better story when I tell it like she was upset.

BTW - Whittington's General Store has a program where they will send jerky to our troops. I usually buy a couple of packages for them every time I go there. Click here for more info.