Anne Palumbo: A birthday gift my husband will never forget
My husband’s birthday is just around the corner, and I’d like to give him an unforgettable gift this year. Although it’s not a milestone birthday, it’s important enough to warrant a unique celebration.
Ever since I read a story about a 40-something married woman who offered her husband sex every day for a year to celebrate his fortieth birthday – and turned the experience into a book – I’ve been wracking my brain for a comparable gift.
Fact is, I’m good with 365 days of something, especially if that “something” translates into a best-selling book. I’m not saying that’s why the aforementioned wife – who clearly kept a journal and was possibly knee-deep in college loans – did it. All I’m saying is that I too would be willing to buckle down and do something for 365 days if it brought me closer to a big, fat royalty check.
So, for the past few weeks, I’ve been consumed with what I could give my husband every day for a whole year. Believe me, it hasn’t been easy (our lives are not so private now that the life-sized kids don’t take naps), but I finally came up with a knock-out gift idea.
His birthday can’t come soon enough! Every day now, I close my eyes and visualize the awesome moment when I present him with his memorable gift.
Since this is a family newspaper, I can’t divulge too many details of the presentation I envision, but at least I can give you a hint of what might transpire. To begin, I see myself taking him by the hand and gently leading him to the couch. There, sitting by side, I would look him in the eye and whisper ever so demurely, “Honey, I’dlike to give you 365 days of…”
At this point, of course, I would strategically pause. Aware that he read the same story about the courageously carnal couple, I imagine his eyes would be as big as Hugh Hefner’s heart-shaped bed.
But I wouldn’t pause for too long: that would be downright cruel. So, the second time around, I would deliver the whole enchilada. “Honey,” I’d say, “for your birthday this year, I’d like to give you 365 days of…chicken.”
I know! Gals, you can thank me later for the brilliant gift idea.
Anyway, once he regained his composure, I imagine he’d excitedly respond, “Do, do you really mean you would have chicken with me every day for an entire year?”
“I’m your wife!” I would say. “Of course I would prepare chicken for you every day for a whole year. That’s why I married you!”
“The guys at the office are never going to believe this!” he would undoubtedly gush. “Hot chicken? 365 days in a row? Did I just die and go to heaven?”
Yes, I would say. And then quickly I would go over ground rules, lest his mind start to wander: no TV or falling asleep during consumption, no chicken when he’s traveling, no declining, and no criticism whatsoever.
I would also need to address the rather delicate definition of what counts as chicken and what does not. For the answer to that question, I would surely consult with the world’s most famous chicken-lover: Bill Clinton.
Admittedly, I’m a tad nervous. It’s not easy delivering chicken 365 days in a row. What if I get a headache?
Anne Palumbo writes this weekly column for Messenger Post Newspapers. E-mail: avpalumbo@aol.com.