this year C and i decided to place a spending limit on presents for each other. mostly because we're both in a transitional period of not needing much [aka: see it. want it. buy it.] and saving for other life circumstances that just may arise in our future.
no biggie, but we had to get a little creative.
or he did.
i stuck with my apparent theme of giving overwhelmingly demanding gifts [insanity this year. guitar and lessons last year. no pressure, love. sheesh.].
true to form, C surprised me with a very sentimental, yet practical present. for his little bookworm, he provided a growing collection of classics. to be admired, read, and preserved. with it came a promise for a big, beautiful home library one day. where the dust tickles your nose, the air smells of must, and the magic erupts as you enter the door. or maybe that was my addendum? nah.
while i love to pore over good literature, the line-up did intimidate me a bit. yet, i just couldn't let those books sit there and look pretty without being read. that would be like a bike not being ridden [friends anyone?]. so i cracked open my first attempt: Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass: An American Slave. so far it is mesmerizing, heartbreaking, inspiring. and i love it.
thank you, C, for knowing me well enough to know i would love this. and hey, while you challenge your bod, i'll challenge my mind. it's like a match made in heaven, i tell ya.