I'm not someone who's big on celebrating my birthday - not out of any fear of growing older or anything like that - it's because I simply don't like the attention. A few years ago I figured out that my shyness often extends into annoyance when overwhelmed with attention, which results in people who are otherwise trying to show that they care about me feeling put off. I don't blame them, and figure that it's just better for everyone involved if I just treat my birthday like any other day.
My boss Deanne, however, has a different idea about birthdays, and because I adore her so much, I decided that I was not going to be cranky this year. And she, in turn, completely surprised me with what was quite possibly the Best. Gift. Ever.
I should back up. While in Nashville for the CMA Music Festival this year, my co-worker Trinity and I made the trek up and down Broadway on our first day in Music City. Trinity had never been to Nashville, and was really feeling the pull of all the crappy tourist shops on Lower Broad (a side note: after being in Nashville for the CMA Music Festival for the first time, I have no idea why people would go to this event for fun. It was hot, it was crowded, and after one pal of mine texted me saying she had awful seats, I thought, "Nashville's an awfully long way to go to discover you have crappy seats." Fortunately, I was there for work, not for fun.). It is said that if you travel with someone, you'll really get to know them, and I believe that now. I learned that Trinity is the kind of person who will buy a souvenir for everyone she knows, rather than letting them travel to said place themselves to purchase said souvenir. I spent more time that week in crappy souvenir shops than I've ever spent in them before. I tried not to be cranky.
But then, in one western wear store, I spotted these:
Granted, at the time, they were on a shelf. In a store. On sale. For $250. And while I did not try them on, I did not stop talking about those boots for the entire trip. After all, talking about the boots does not cost any money, and $250 is an awful lot to spend on boots when one is also about to pay for a new truck transmission. So I talked. I'm pretty sure everyone I met in Nashville at some point heard about those pink boots with the brown skull and crossbones.
Finally, on our last day, Trinity, Deanne, and I headed to Broadway for one more last round of souvenir shopping (because, for crying out loud, Trinity still wasn't done yet!), and Deanne asked which store I'd seen the boots in. She thought I should just try them on, and I thought I should not, out of fear that I'd fall in love with them and buy them. We located the store, and I was relieved that they no longer had them in my size. Deanne, however, wrote down the pertinent information, and said we'd look for them online when we got home. I was thinking, "I still have a transmission to pay for, though!"
We returned to Los Angeles, and I forgot about those boots. Meanwhile, the wheels were turning in Deanne's head. She and Trinity located a store online that sold the boots in my size and ordered them, making sure they arrived just before my birthday. The irony is that they had the boots sent to the office, and any packages that arrive for our department usually get sent to my office for me to distribute. I must have been feeling lazy that day, though, because after the package had been sitting in my office for several hours, I still hadn't walked it over to Deanne's office, or even looked at it. So the next morning - the day of my birthday - when I arrived at work and unwrapped the package Deanne had wrapped and left on my desk, I let out the loudest shriek known to man.
Yay for surprises! And for these boots.
