peskypippi.comBecause I have a lot to say…

The gift giving season is upon us. Here are 10 things retailers make you think your man wants.

However.

If I gifted any of the below to my guy, he might just punch me in the nose.

Ya might want to think twice before purchasing any of these things:

1. Cologne
2. Tie
3. Robe
4. Electric shaver
5. Wallet
6. Pajamas
7. Nose and ear hair trimmer
8. Christmas sweater
9. Anything monogrammed
10. Tire gauge*

*Thank you @Keeferdog for the brainstorming!

It was a decade ago when my husband gifted me a guitar for my birthday. It was the sweetest birthday present ever. Sweet because he was supportive of my “musical dream.”

You see, I kinda wanted to be like Maria from The Sound of Music.

Dorky, right? Are you kidding? Maria was freaking awesome.

I wanted to learn to play Do Re Mi Fa and Old MacDonald Had a Farm for my young son. I was eager to strum along in his Kindergarten class down the line, to entertain the children with my forthcoming talents.

A glistening, wooden acoustic guitar smiled at me, beckoning. With new red picks, a tuner, a guitar case, and everything!

I tried to pluck. I tried to strum. I watched the DVD Playing Guitar for Dummies.

But I couldn’t do it.

I tried. For days. Weeks.

I just couldn’t get the hang of it.

Then, I got pregnant with my daughter. And I got busy with other things. Years passed. My guitar sat lonely in the corner of our living room, gathering dust.

Years later, people would visit and see the guitar and ask, “Cool. Do you play?” “Yeah, I play,” I would lie. Because saying “No, I never learned,” sounded so lame.

I later tried playing from time to time, but I didn’t have the patience (or the skill). I tried Guitar Hero. And I sucked at that too. Red. Green. Blue. Green. Red. Red. Yikes!

Now my daughter is nine and is learning to play the “fancy guitar in the corner of the living room.” We dusted it off. Bought her some new strings and neon picks. She has the patience. And she seems to have some talent.

I smile at her enthusiasm as she strums. And I smile that it was my husband who bought me the guitar in the first place.

I’m hanging out with more fun bloggers at Yeah Write. Click on the buttons below to check out their amazing talents!

One wedding day. While I could write about the beauty and love and sweetness of that one day, I decided to write about all the other little things that made that day memorable.

• One rainy day in June, in a summer of hot, sunny days. Outside wedding, with no back-up plans.
• One manicure and pedicure. The bride’s first.
• One ginormous piece of chocolate cake gobbled down by the bride an hour before the ceremony. Nerves. And starvation.
  
• One floppy-hat-wearing woman in a floral dress took over the bride’s bathroom and changing area–and would not leave. Yikes! No place to change!
• One janitor’s closet brimming with mops, down the hall. Bride’s father saved the day and stood guard while she wiggled into her dress, knocking over brooms.
• One hug by a well wisher, pre-ceremony, left one red lipstick stain on the bride-to-be’s puffy sleeve. Club soda needed pronto!
• One dry spell, moments before the ceremony, lifted the clouds so the bride and groom could exchange their vows in sunshine.
• One couple, with the biggest grins you ever saw, standing before 30 people. A small wedding. With big heart.
• One starched groom, who found he was allergic to the starch in the rental tux shirt. Puffy, itchy head-to-belly rash post-ceremony. Only to be cured by 48 hours of honeymoon sunshine.
• One long table with all the swordfish, garlic mashed potatoes, endive salad and three-tiered chocolate cake you could eat. Oh and Robert Mondavi wine all around.
• One hefty restaurant tab for the newly-married couple. Who would take nearly two years to pay off. Independence.
• One drunk chauffeur. Who swerved and sped down the freeway, in the black Towncar, to get the bride and groom to the airport to catch their midnight flight..
• One airport snafu. The plane tickets were in the bride’s married name, yet her passport and driver’s license were in her not-married name. Houston: we have a problem. A stopover in Houston, Texas to plead to the authorities. Have pity on the bride, wearing her jeans and veil on board.
• One red-eye flight to Puerta Vallarta, Mexico. On our wedding night.
• One week off of work from our first out-of-college jobs. Not much vacation time accrued when you’re just starting out.
• One afternoon, upon arrival, with Macarena playing in the background, was one happy couple who passed out from exhaustion, poolside.

One memorable wedding day. And life for this one couple is still just as quirky and funny and love-filled and riddled with goof-ups, 6,935 days later.

You know when you and a friend laugh so hard? So hard that you are shaking and you can’t catch your breath. And it is really hard to breathe? And you have to bend over so you can get some air in?

Too bad that doesn’t happen to me that much. I love to laugh like that. I chuckle. I giggle. I laugh. I LOL. But I don’t laugh-so-hard-you-can’t-breath laugh that much.

Here is a little, tiny real-life laugh-so-hard-you-can’t-breath story my husband and I experienced not too long ago.

One day, my oldest son was sick. He was burning up with fever. Rifling through our first aid tub, my husband and I found Bandaids, ointment, Neosporin, Tylenol, cough syrup, cotton balls. Where the hell was the thermometer?? We needed it pronto.

Digging, digging, we finally found it. Under all the supplies.

And then we saw that on the thermometer—written with a skinny Sharpie marker—was the word…DOG.

Enough said.

Does this outfit/dress/blouse/sweater/pair of jeans/jacket make me look fat?

Chances are. Yes. We know when we look in the mirror if we are feeling confident with our looks and our choices in outfits. So why do we waste our time asking our husbands/boyfriends/partners if we look fat or not.

If your buttons are gaping; your sleeves dig into your arms; your muffin top runneth over; or you’re just not skinny enough for skinny jeans, then don’t even ask.

Do we really need men to validate our looks and reassure us (even with a fake), “Nah, Sweetie, you look GREAT.” Yeah, kinda.

Here are six more questions that should just be left unasked:

1. Do I have more wrinkles than last year?
2. Do you like my hair better short or long?
3. Where do you want to go for dinner?
4. Do you think the banana bread was dry?
5. How do you like the new outfit I just bought?
6. I bought a new lamp. Do you like it?

Why bring attention to inferior beauty problems? Why focus on the negatives? Why call attention to the extra money spent?

Instead, look in the mirror and smile at yourself. And answer your own questions:

1. Put on the wrinkle cream in private.
2. Wear that new hairstyle with sass—whether short or long.
3. Pick a restaurant that serves beer on draught; he’ll be happy.
4. If you think the banana bread is dry, smear a little butter on it and maybe some peach jam and serve it with a smile. And a glass of water.
5. Wear the new outfit with confidence and save the “outfit talk” for your girlfriends.
6. Give the old lamp to Goodwill. Without a word. He may not even notice.

Some of this “talky talk” is better saved for girlfriends. Or not. Sometimes you may not really want to know what they really think either.