A Belated Thank You

GiftOr, Christmas in May.

So many years ago, Mojo's family, in a rousing display of intelligence and perspicacity, hit upon a Christmas gift-giving scheme that befits both our overwhelming generosity and our inherited Scotch thrift from my Favorite Mother's side of the family. Instead of buying wonderful gifts for every single stinkin' member of our ever-growing family, the Siblings started drawing names, so that each of us would only have to buy for TWO people instead of, umm, a dozen or so. This one little thing alone--while somewhat limiting Mojo's usually substantial haul at Christmas--has saved me well into four figures a year, and in the years since its implementation it's probably given me a total savings in the low five figures. Ahhh.

The problem with some members of the family is--being the thoughtful, kind, generous people that they are--once in a while someone jumps the gun. They find a gift that would be just PERFECT for a certain person, and they impulsively BUY it. Then when the name-drawing comes around they must trust in luck that they will get that person's name--or negotiate a swap with the person who DOES get it. Or, they do what happened THIS year, when a Certain So-and-So dragged me aside and told me they had GONE AGAINST THE RULES and bought me a gift and forgot to negotiate with the person who drew my name and the gift simply CANNOT be given to another person, so here--take this secretly out to your car and don't tell anyone I gave you this special, extra gift.

Okay, sez Mojo, because, well, heck, free gift. Incidentally, this is how Mojo's life tends to work, which may help explain why she is such a lazy, no-good layabout. But I digress.

Oh--adds the gift giver--I also bought a gift for Your Favorite Husband, because I figured I can't really give YOU a gift on the sly without giving one to him. So go wing these both in your car before someone sees.

I demurred and tried in vain to point out that instead of going through all the time and expense of getting my Favorite Husband a gift as well, this person could have simply given me TWO gifts, but the algebra involved seemed too complex for them to grasp. So in the end I merely thanked them and wunged (past tense of wing) the gifts into the car as instructed. And sotto voce muttered to my Favorite Husband that there was a gift for him out in the car from So-and-So.

So eventually we drag our tired butts home, and spread out our Christmas bounty to gloat over, and I say something like, "What did So-and-So get you?" Because I was mildly curious and all, given the James Bondian way of getting said gifts.

"I dunno," sez the Favorite Husband--who (I point out here not to complain, mind you, but simply as an Important Factor In This Anecdote) has a slightly annoying tendency to rip things out of their packaging and dispose of said packaging before making such vitally necessary social connections. "Uhh, maybe this thing here?"

Ummm, sez I, we can't really be THANKING them if we are UNSURE which gift was from them.

"I don't think they got me anything," he then shrugs. "I wasn't on their list."

No, they did, I correct him, and once again explain this whole Mission Impossible scheme to get the present into the car without the rest of the family going for the torches and pitchforks, and muttering to him about the gift's existence. So we go back and forth a few times, with him insisting he never saw anything from them, and me INSISTING they HAD. Eventually we got distracted by something shiny and the whole topic was dropped and forgotten. So if you never get a thank you from Mojo, that's probably why; she was in the middle of discussing it when something more interesting came up. Sorry.

ANYWAY, fast-forward to this past weekend. We are tending to the Mother in Law up in New Hampshire, and one of the things we do is, we drive her to the pharmacy to pick up her prescriptions. We then kidnap her for ice cream. Because, duh, ice cream. So we sit at the picnic table of this little roadside stand in Vermont, eating ice cream, and then we take her back to her house and drop her off. We are about thirty miles into our two-hour drive home (quick! Do the math!) when she calls all upset. Because she had left her prescriptions in the back seat of the car. So we turn the car around and head back to her house. On the way I'm craning around in my seat to gather the plastic bag of stuff from the pharmacy.... and there I see it, under the car seat.

"Look! It's the gift So-and-So gave you!"

So four and a half months after Christmas, my Favorite Husband would like to thank So-and-So for the lovely Amazon gift card. And me too, because in typical Mojo fashion the Favorite Husband really doesn't buy things from Amazon, but I DO. Funny how that works out...

Mojo