Extravagant (with fun photos from my day)

Today was my birthday.  I'm 36 years old now.  Older than my man by a full nine months.

(The pile of birthday cards I awoke to.)

 Do you guys know about the five love languages?  My girlfriends and I have been having a lot of discussions about love languages lately.  Discovering ours, and of course the language our spouse speaks so we can better identify and meet the needs of those wonderful men we love so much.  My love language is big time, wholeheartedly, gifts.  This is what the author says about the love language of gifts:  Don’t mistake this love language for materialism; the receiver of gifts thrives on the love, thoughtfulness, and effort behind the gift. If you speak this language, the perfect gift or gesture shows that you are known, you are cared for, and you are prized above whatever was sacrificed to bring the gift to you. A missed birthday, anniversary, or a hasty, thoughtless gift would be disastrous—so would the absence of everyday gestures.


I'm actually laughing, because those people who know me even a smidgen probably know that every single word of this description is me, to a tee.

(Hanging at the vet's office with Lucy, savoring the fun art.)

 We pulled up to the mailbox, and the key squeaked a little as Adrain turned it.  I glanced over to look out the window, viewing the progress of a neighborhood project, a warm breeze blowing against my face.  Adrain pulled out a butterscotch colored- mailing envelope and casually tossed it into my lap with an easy grin.  I recognized the swirl of the handwriting, even before peeking at the sender, and a tickle of joy surged up my spine.  I quickly tore open the top, and yanked out a butter colored envelope... the thick kind, sure to hold a treasure.  It read, "My Sasha Girl" and I smiled.  I flipped it over, and slid my thumbnail under the gold seal.  I pulled out the stiff card, sprinkled with glitter and bright colors, and anticipation swirled for that tiny second before you "know."  You know about that second right?  It's the moment right before you see that they really "get you."  I live for that moment, as much as I pretend not to- because for some reason, I've grown to believe that you've got to play it cool in those moments. Inside, I'm screaming and giddy. 

(Where my man and I ate lunch)

 The moment of truth.  I flipped it open and the gift spilled out, filling my hand.  All the breath in my lungs escaped in one big whoosh as I sat staring at it.  The sun was hot on my shoulders and the car began pulling away from the mailbox.  "Adrain........"  I gasped, holding it out between my fingers...  He glanced at it and grinned.  He had known.  He gave me a nod as he turned down the street.  I almost couldn't breathe.  Half words sputtered out of my mouth over and over, as I stared at my gift. "But how....what.... why....I mean.... really?....oh..... I can't believe.... oh..... "  He chuckled and said simply, "I know."  I began grasping for my phone.  I had to reach the sender.  I had no words, but I had to speak.  Giggles began bursting from my lips and then I stopped cold.  "But Adrain... how do I accept a gift of such magnitude?"  "You just do.  And then you say thank you."

Shock. Delight.  Wonder.  Overwhelming gratitude.  Amazement.  Pure excitement.  I dialed the phone.

(My gluten-free lunch.  Yum.)

 Never, in my entire life, have I been given a birthday present like that.  I'm reeling from the overwhelming love and friendship... a gift I could never have imagined... a thoughtfulness I could never repay and the only words I can come up with to say are thank you.  My love language, spoken in it's native tongue.  "Prized above whatever was sacrificed to bring the gift to me."  Oh.....

I wouldn't embarrass my sweet friend by calling her out or naming the gift, but she is reading and she knows.  And yet, she'll never know... I'm so overwhelmed by this sweet, thoughtful, extravagant gesture. 

(My family took me to the grocery store to pick out dinner!)

I love you my sweet friend.   You are a gift. 

(At the car wash.  Trust me, this is a gift...)

(These were on my doorstep, from my mom-in-law)

(Little hand-made necklace from my boy.)