Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Y2 Day 97: Possums Have 13 Nipples

I called Mom to get Dad's pants measurements, and this is what I learned instead.

Well, I guess I should say "in addition," since I also got the waistband and inseam numbers I needed. (We draw names for Christmas gift-giving among my parents and sibs, and Husband is giving to Dad this year. Which means I'm giving to Dad, and Husband is giving him a book. 'S'okay, I like shopping for Dad.) Dad also has a birthday in December, which he shares with Beethoven. He's getting harder to buy for, as he gets older and his world gets smaller, but I'm good at thinking creatively and keeping my eye out for possibilities, and here's what I've come up with:
  • Jellies of the world (he eats toast with jelly every morning, and Mom says their stash is depleted); so far, I've collected sour cherry, gooseberry, apricot, and something called Mimosa marmalade
  • Flannel-lined pants (he is always cold)
  • A new comfy fleecy jacket (ditto)
  • A Corkcicle (he likes red wine slightly chilled, and he'll think this is funny)
  • A lovely bottle of red wine
  • A wine caddy that looks like lederhosen (my dad has a fine appreciation of the absurd)
  • Lava Buns! (i.e., a Hot Butt Pillow) — this is the present I'm most excited about; I see him bringing it to his Library Board meetings, and sharing its name with pride
I've got a few other things too (including some info I found on his grandmother, Alice Brown Davis, the first and only chieftain [female chief] of the Seminole Tribe — I don't know why it never occurred to me to look her up on the Internet before, but it never did). He'll be happy.

Alas, the Unemployed Philosophers Guild is out of the soap shaped like the statue of David, which I very much wanted to buy for Mom's stocking (we were in Florence just four years ago). C'est la vie.

Wow, did I mean to write about Dad tonight? Apparently! He's reading Ken Jennings' book of trivia right now and is chock-full o' fun facts. I'm just as glad I'm not visiting.

Though that is kind of interesting about the oppossum.

I got home from zumba 30 minutes ago, and ye gods do I stink. The Italian Spitfire is determined to keep us from gaining an ounce this month! ("Maintain, don't gain," she said. Is that not the motto I declared mere days ago? Clearly I am psychic.) I can no longer stand my own aroma, so it's off to the bath! I've got Jane Eyre to read, but it's an ancient edition; I'm not sure it can withstand my bath steam. I also have a handful of enticing YAs (Almost Perfect and Vixen and The Girl Is Trouble), and they'll be great tub books.

Or People. I just realized that I am completely exhausted. Including my brain. It may have to be People.

Good night!

—Lady C, maintaining

2 comments:

  1. Sounds like your dad's going to have a great Christmas! *Looking up Lava Buns now....*

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    1. Actually, it might be a good treat for you, too, the perpetually cold partner. You can kick back on the couch with Carter in a tank top and shorts on a 50-degree day, nestled toasty warm on your Lava Buns!

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