Drunk on Generosity

I thought I could resist the siren call of Ross forever. Hah! I am weak, I admit it. And I've been restless with fantasies of owning a track suit. There, I wrote it! A track suit, a la Britney: pink velour, perhaps. Which I know is a huge mistake since it would only bring out the pink in my nose and I would look like some sort of lab experiment gone hideously wrong. But my dream suit would definitely be branded and coordinated. So when I "had" to return to Ross to return two lampshades that just didn't fit the little antiquish glass lamp that M had fixed up for me, I let my fingers caress almost every item in the activewear section. And I did indeed pick something up from the Clearance rack, labeled "yoga" with a discreet Nike swoop. Pants, how could I resist when they were clearly marked as $40, then down to $15.99, then $2.99? Three bucks for yoga pants? Yeah, baby! My cheapskate heart leapt with joy. So now I'm wearing them, so I guess I'm keeping them.

Despite being an introvert and a tightwad, I am blessed with people in my life who insist on giving me gifts. Perhaps it's my inner princess peeking out, demanding tribute? Ack! Yay! (What is with my sudden penchant for exclamation points? A new year, a new view of punctuation, perhaps...)

Several days ago, a new friend offered a gift that I couldn't (yet) accept, but I was humbled by the gesture.

And then, last night during writers group meeting, not only did the gals actually praise my poem, a gift in itself, I received Xmas presents from them both. Did I have gifts for them? (They mumbled something about reading my recent blog posting about giving un-agreed-upon gifts but not caring. :) No...but I will give presents in return, and they will be better because they are unexpected--take that, girls!

And then, today, compelled perhaps by my desire to be generous somehow in return to the spirit of gift-giving, I went "wild" (as crazy as one could be in the dollar section of Target-said-with-a-French-accent) and purchased things for coworkers that I will have the satisfaction of leaving on their chairs before they arrive at work tomorrow.

And then, after returning home from Target-said-with-a-French-accent and enduring Rex's barking at the mailman, I retrieved from the mailbox a lovely package from another cherished "M." Inside was a pin that could've been a self-portrait (ahem, that is, if I could draw), and a blank journal. Oh, the potential! There's another wrapped gift that I've left for M to open when he comes home from class, so tempting and tantalizing, that I can only hope is Moira's first book of poetry, recently published. But best of all was her note that I might just keep in an accessible place that I can pull out and re-read whenever I'm feeling bad in order to retain a sense of balance. There is no gift to equal one that ends "I love you," no, not even in the dollar section.

Coming so soon upon the heels of Christmas, I'm overwhelmed, but in a lovely way.

Continuing to riff upon the gift theme, what will I give to my brother, who will be hitting the big four-oh on Sunday, which happens to be M's birthday as well, though not that age? I think back into the mists of time when I reached that milestone, and remember that I wanted to be as far away from reality as possible that day (and I was, in Monument Valley, a completely unearthly place). I want to give him an adventure of some sort, but I haven't planned far enough in advance, if that's not an oxymoron--isn't an adventure supposed to be spontaneous? I'm not the sister I aspire to be--sorry, bro'!

[Morning after note/confession: OK, perhaps I was a little drunk on something else, too!]