Anne Palumbo: A birthday gift my husband will never forget

Anne Palumbo

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: