My birthday is in two days. It’s one of those non-distinct years; I’m not turning 65 or 70 which seem to require larger celebrations. Sixty-seven is just another year. Don’t get me wrong. I’m THRILLED to be another year older and am looking forward to lots more non-distinct years. I’m certainly not in the mood for a party, however, and there’s nothing I need, so don’t rush out and buy me a bottle of wine or flowers. (I never tire of a dinner out at my favorite sushi restaurant though. lol)
|One of Cheri’s great cakes..looks too good to eat|
For myself, as I moved into my 20’s and 30’s, the gift giving from my family became secondary to what boyfriends would get me. I was very materialistic and equated the magnitude of their gifts with the magnitude of their devotion to me. A gift could take on the lofty position of being the expressed symbol of their affection, and I took it very seriously.
During my 30’s and 40’s I was married and appreciated nice things for the home. Perhaps not as industrial as a new vacuum cleaner but something more sophisticated like a food torch to crystallize the sugar on top of my crème brulee (what a snob!). I appreciated nice dishware like Rosenthal and Wedgwood, and, thank goodness, I took care of it, so it has lasted me until today.
From my 50’s to the present, if I am even slightly interested in a gift, it needs to be experiential. I don’t need stuff, I need time … time with friends and loved ones. I wish I had gotten the message that these family and friends are the true gifts of any occasion much sooner than I did. Oh, well, better late than never.