(FYI–this used to be part of a longer post that I’ve since divided in half. I’m trying to be a bit more…concise here and there.)
In one of my earlier posts, Peanut Butter and Butter, and What it Taught Me About Presents, I described some of the more…unsuccessful gifts I’ve bought for people. (Not that there’s anything wrong with trophy decorations for the trophyless, Yoda lights, or manly marionettes.)
There was one present this year, however, that I think went quite well.
I take the giving of gifts seriously. In a way it’s a personal challenge—can I pick out a present that’ll be rewarded with the oh, WOW, I didn’t even know that I wanted this! But I do!
My favorite is when the gift is for someone who isn’t expecting much of me. Maybe we don’t know each other well, or they didn’t ask for anything in particular so they assume I couldn’t possibly have picked out something they really want.
Now, just because I care about gift giving doesn’t mean I’m any good at it. Sometimes I’m really “on” when it comes to what I pick out, but just as often I’m completely, well, off. People are too polite to say they don’t like their present, but it’s obvious. And it bothers me.
It takes me back to a fiasco back in second grade at summer day camp.