Again, my aunt doesn't know much about my husband. She met him once. He wore a nice, dark colored suit to my grandfather's funeral. Said all the right things. Was kind and easy going, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries.
In yearly Christmas cards, I've surely talked about him. Said he was enjoying his job as a software engineer, probably mentioned he plays on 2 work-related baseball teams during the spring and summer.
This is a man who likes video games. Sportscenter. The Simpsons. He loves fighter jets. He reads thick books with tiny print about history and programming languages. FOR FUN.
He will turn to me while on the computer and say there is a video I have to see, and then he'll send me a link like this. He always does this when I've found a link that I've watched about 5 times and need him to see. Like this one. He is never moved in quite the same way by such videos as I am.
Sorry. I just watched that again. The old lady kills me. I cry every time I watch this. Wow. I need therapy.
Anyway, my point is, my husband is a guy's guy. He is not a romcom guy, a guy who ever shops for clothing, or a guy who cares about how I decorate the house. If I ask him which curtains I should buy, he basically says whichever ones get him out of this situation the fastest. He hates shoe shopping, listening to me talk about shoes, and having to weigh in on which shoes I should wear whenever we go anywhere. He doesn't watch Project Runway with me, has no idea who any reality star is, and has never seen an Oprah show in its entirety.
He had just opened a butterfly book and a rose art print from my aunt for Christmas. He held the final gift from her in his hands. He looked at me and smiled. He could tell it was a book. He loves books!
He then opened this.
Holy sh*t.
My dad asked, "What book is that?"
My husband turned it over in his hands,
then read the binding on the side out loud.
then read the binding on the side out loud.
"It's an enchanted dream journal."
...
"Enchanted"
...
"Dream"
...
"Journal"
...
"Is that what it says," my dad asked incredulously.
"Yep."
That was exactly what it said.
...
It was a journal with lined pages to write on, each page framed with more drawings of the hippy-dippy-type fairy lady from the cover and some inspirational quotes.
The example in the photo is of a page
with a quote from Albert Einstein.
"There are two ways to live your life.
One is as though nothing is a miracle.
The other is as though everything is a miracle."
The miracle is that I didn't sh*t myself laughing right then.
I do not know how, but my husband handled this and all of it with an easy going attitude. He set the dream journal aside just as he had the poster of Albert Pujols my father had gotten him. The hubby just laughed and shrugged it off like it was nothing. I could not stop myself from trying to make it make sense. Maybe these gifts to him were to make us laugh? To make me laugh? To counteract the Weight Watcher cookbooks she had gotten me? To work in conjunction with them, since I laughed so hard I must have burned off most of Christmas dinner?
I could not get over it. I just kept asking how these gifts were picked. Why? WHY? My brother and I shared a few minutes of back and forth on maybe our aunt thought the only man who'd marry me would have to be gay. Which is sort of plausible, if you haven't met my husband.
My mother defended her sister, "Oh, no! She didn't mean that!"
Because it should be my mother who is offended by this.
I immediately asked, holding the dream journal out towards her, "THEN WHY?"
My mother said,"Maybe she thought the lady looked like you." Her tone and posture indicated this made our arguement invalid.
Sure. I mean, we're practically identical. Our twins-type appearance would make anyone want to write down their dreams. Especially anyone in love with me. I mean her. Us, since we're the same.
Maybe my aunt shops while high on 'shrooms. Or prescription pain meds. She did have a hip replaced.
I don't know. I just know that whatever rainbow led her down this road, this was perfection.
The Trifecta Of Awesome
Long live the trifecta!
I hope my husband writes in his dream journal that someday, somehow, someway, this trifecta will be beaten by another grouping of absurd and delightful gifts from my side of the family. He only has a lifetime left for this to happen. Isn't he just the luckiest man to be with me?
Just look at that photo one more time. Imagine if your spouse's family gave you a bunch of similarly confusing gifts. I mean, what would be equivalent?
I guess if my in-laws gave me a burka (which none of them wear), possibly a detailed and mulit-volumed DVD (VHS!) set documentary about the navy seals, and some really expensive camping gear. That would about do it. Of course, they would have to accept my husband and I were married before being interested in giving us presents, so I'm not going to hold my breath. The only thing my in-laws would like to give me is the itinerary of the woman they've sent for who is supposed to marry their son, so that I can pick her up in a timely manner from the airport.
Wow. I just made my aunt's presents so much more awesome. Welcome to the family, Honey! At least we're all excited you're here! So excited we want to document your dreams! We care about your dreams!
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