I don’t like perfunctory gifts. Those “I pulled her name this year and she likes perfume” gifts.
I like the kind of gifts that blow people away and make their dreams come true.
Those deep-seated wishes you don’t think anyone knows about. Yeah, I want to know about those, because I will go to the ends of the earth to make them happen.
I personally don’t like opening presents. At all. My best friends know not to wrap them. I appreciate everything and it’s not a concern that I won’t love whatever anyone gives me… it’s the awkward discomfort of it all.
When I went to counseling after I got divorced, the one horrifying thing my therapist said was that one of my “love languages” was receiving gifts. My mouth fell open and I argued vehemently to the contrary.
Then my lover bought me a parting gift. He handed me a box and told me to open it.
Inside was a necklace and inscribed in tiny letters was the phrase: “I shimmered…whatever affection you remember, remember this.”
I cried big, alligator tears. Jeanine Payer is my favorite jewelry/designer/weakness in the whole world and he’d proven my counselors point. It wasn’t that I wanted random gifts. I wanted intention, with a bow.
I hate opening presents so much that I’m overjoyed to be single in the time of gifting.
O V E R J O Y E D.
However… I’ve been a busy little Miss Claus and have found/made a few things that I am SO EXCITED to give.
Quote from Nora, episode #42 “The heart is where it’s at. It tells us so much about ourselves. It skips a beat when we’re falling in love. It races when we’re scared. It holds our secrets and our hopes.” What does your heart say about you? What is it racing or skipping a beat for? #terriblewritingclub
The Unicorn and I were talking about this yesterday. We’re just…different. She’s in the same boat, regularly enough that she can commiserate over anything I’m going through. We love out loud and hard. Neither of us have any concern over why we should be more cautious or restrictive with our feelings. We don’t speak that language and we’d be miserable if we did. Sure… at the end of the road her and I will arrive at the pearly gates with dents and dings, a few bruises and hearts that have been broken so many times they’ve been duct taped back together. Laughing. Having lived every last shred out of every second of every day. Loving every minute of it, because we don’t know how to love any other way. The high cost of a magical life, well lived.
So many things make my heart race or skip a beat, that I have to make a list:
My Children. First and foremost, nothing makes my heart skip a beat more than my babies. They are my sun, moon & stars.
Finding the perfect Christmas gift for someone special. 🙂 I am SO excited for Christmas this year because I have some HUGE surprises planned. My closest friends know that I don’t love opening presents. I kind of loathe wrapping paper and the awkward expectation of it all, but I LOVE shocking the hell out of someone by making a big dream come true.
The Yarn Store. Hmmmmm, somebody take my card away because I can spend some serious money on string. I think it’s close to a high when I walk into the merino and angora section. I. Want. It. All. Incidentally, I already have it all, so it’s really ok if someone takes my card away before I walk in the door.
Morning sex. There’s really nothing like being woken up by the man you want. Nothing. In this crazy, chaotic life of alarm clocks, traffic and stress… God or nature gave us perfect erections, every morning. Letting that treasure go to waste is a crime. Wake HIM up. Do it for me.
Thread count. Sorry, not sorry. I have a bedding collection that makes my heart skip a beat every time I do laundry. I love good sheets. Fluffy feather pillows and comforters make me happppppppppy. My boss gave me some sort of charcoal mattress topper thingy that feels like a cloud. My bed is heaven before you even add me into the equation. Amen.
Being in love. I think this is a given, considering the topic… but the only one I hesitated on. I am a little horrified at myself when I’m in love, and it’s somewhat uncomfortable to face the frustrating parts of yourself. I can’t explain what happens to me. My Mormon roots come out swinging, and I LITERALLY tie an apron on. I bake, spoil and fuck him into a dumbfounded coma. My jeans disappear and there are suddenly a dozen dresses and heels in the closet. I take the time to wear a garter belt and stockings. I wake him up with a blowjob. I AM that 50’s housewife we all shake our heads at. Sex on heels and grinning at everyone, everywhere. Baking a blue streak. Lemon tarts and marshmallows, and why not make a bunch of homemade gnocchi? It’s a lot. Kind of like your own private hurricane.
Traveling. So many things make my heart skip a beat when it comes to travel. I love Mexican libraries where I can’t read the pages in the books, and homemade tortillas from the lady I can’t have a conversation with. I realize that I sound like an asshole American, but honestly… not talking is ok. Smile and shake their hands. Hug them. Words aren’t always necessary and some of my greatest adventures have been with people who didn’t speak the same language. I think it’s important to see how the rest of the world lives and loves. It makes you a better person and more grateful for the blessings we tend to take for granted.
Gardening. This is a hard pill to swallow after such a terrible season, but it truly makes me happy to play in the dirt. Homegrown garlic is unparallelled as are ripe heirloom tomatoes. I can’t live without either and nothing quite compares to the release of my favorite porn every year.
Blowjobs. This is the unsung hero of so many women’s sexual repertoire. Seriously ladies, step it up, because this tops the list of why I am struggling with an Incredicock addiction. He indulges me and I can’t look at his belt without my heart racing.
Rough sex. Give me all the spankings. Choke me, bite me, and tell me all about it. I apologize for the hearing loss. Feel free to put your hand over my mouth. That does it for me too.
My Fab Fit Fun box. Call me Basic Becky, because I LOVE this shit. It’s the only stupid thing I do for myself and it ships out four times a year. Buy it for yourself, your wife, your mom… anyone. It’s a wonderful surprise that shows up when you expect it the least and need it the most. Anything I don’t love or use, I give to my lovely daughter and friends. It’s win-win, all the way around.
Masculine men. Sigh. This should be second only to my children. The only smell on a man that’s sexier to me than cologne, is sawdust. Hot and dirty with tools in his hands, he can have anything from me. Name it, take it… it’s yours.
Tattoos. It’s been way too long since I got a new one. Nothing compares to needle therapy and I can’t be attracted to a man without them, either. All that plain skin is a sign of a boring soul and uneventful life.
Elderly couples. We visit the nursing home frequently, and have adopted a few families who don’t have children/grandchildren nearby. They think we belong to them and that’s enough for me. John and Edna are my favorites. He walks with help and she’s quite a bit younger than him. He pinches her on the ass, every single chance he gets. She took his motorized cart away because he kept running into her heels, but he figured out how to roll after her equally as fast with his new self-propelled wheels. She laughs every time, even when he runs into her. He jokes constantly that he told her he’d chase her around the nursing home and now she believes him. They’re good for everyone who has the pleasure of being around them. Edna does squats with me now and John is threatening to start pinching mine, too. 🙂
Old books. The older the better. This beats any porn I’ve ever seen, including my favorite seed catalog. I could sit in an old library for a hundred hours and smile for a month straight, afterwards. Reading is a luxury I don’t make enough time for, but when I am really feeling sad or lonely, a good book is always just what the doctor ordered.
Exercise. Hard to believe, but so incredibly true. I love the muscle screaming, sweat dripping, ass perfecting grind that is my daily workout(s). It saves me when my sex drive threatens to steal every last minute of the limited hours of sleep I have available to me as it is. My arms are changing shape, my jeans are looking goooood and my panic attacks are gone. That’s everything.
What makes your heart race or skip a beat? Do you share any of mine?