Day 2, Mountain Time

So this morning was Father’s Day, and upon giving Tanja’s father a bottle of imported French Calvados (apple brandy) that I suggested and picked out, it dawned on me: I think I like giving people well-chosen presents more than I like getting well-chosen presents.

Does that make me some sort of pinko-commie?

Thinking back, though, I’ve always like giving presents, even when I didn’t have much money. At university, I got little things for my various friends (despite being taken aside by one of them, and being told I didn’t have to “buy their love.” Which was totally not the point). I knew that most of them were equally as not-well-off as was, and a little something would brighten their day.

So yeah. When people say “Don’t make a big thing out of my birthday”, it just gets me planning. I’ve even, marvel of marvels after some very rocky starts, gotten halfway decent at choosing things for Tanja.

I know some psychiatrist would be able to pick this apart, saying that I equate possessions to love, but that’s totally not it. I like the look on people’s faces when they open/receive something that is suited for them and that they didn’t expect.

Man. I am a pinko-commie.