Don’t you LOVE your gift?

Today, Donnie turns 33, which is totally not old at all. If that’s true (and I believe it is), then why do I think I’m old at 31?

Anyway… I pride myself on my ability to choose the perfect gift for someone.

If it’s the thought that counts, then I win because I put A LOT of thought into gifts.

If it’s the gift that counts, I win on that too because I’m pretty damn good at it.

It’s almost a selfish satisfaction I get from seeing someone enjoy a gift I carefully selected (or sometimes crafted) just for them.

This time, I took a chance and bought Donnie a guitar.

“Does Donnie know how to play a guitar?” No.
“Does Donnie know how to read music?” No.
“And yet, you bought him a guitar and you think you’re some sort of gift master?” First, rude! And second, yes, I AM the gift master!

Donnie LOVES music. I’m pretty sure that’s an understatement. I think he loves music so much he wants to take it behind the middle school and get it pregnant. There, that did it.

At some point in the time we’ve known each other, Donnie mentioned to me that he’d always wanted to play guitar, but that, “It’s too late now, I’m old.” I don’t believe that. There are few things to be too old for and learning to play guitar is not one of them.

People told me I was crazy to take a chance on such a gift. The risk-taker I am, I did it anyway.

And you know what? HE LOVED IT!

He’s already learning songs. He picks it up when he gets home from a stressful work day and said (quote) “This is the perfect gift.”

HA! I DID IT! The gift master wins again. And my prize? Watching him enjoy his new gift.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s