grrgoyl

Before I talk about my Christmas, a story most bizarre.

Back home in New England, the man that originally hired me for the inventory job that subsequently enslaved me for 16 years (on and off) is called...well, he goes under a nickname, but to further protect his identity I'll call him "Beep." Tery also knew Beep through not only the inventory job that fatefully brought us together, but from being his bartender for X number of years as well. We'd fallen out of touch with Beep since moving to Colorado apart from the occasional Christmas card, but still remembered him fondly. It was all good.

Two years ago we received an email from Beep, the usual blah blah blah about the circumstances under which he left the inventory job, which was surprising, along with an attached photo of how he looks "these days" that was even more surprising. The picture was of a person who vaguely resembled Beep from the neck up, sans his defining thick, bushy moustache, but from the neck down undeniably had breasts and a bra.

Tery and I were confused, to say the least. We responded with the assumption that either a.) he had mistakenly sent a picture of his sister, or b.) haha, is there something you forgot to tell us? haha. We got no answer back at all.

Fastforward to this weekend, when Tery came in from the mailbox gasping alarmingly. I honestly couldn't tell if she was laughing or crying. I actually thought she had been assaulted in the parking lot. She couldn't reassure me either way until she climbed the stairs to my work desk. She was holding a Christmas card still sealed in the envelope. The pre-printed address label read "Ms. Beep _______."

We were terrified to open it. What kind of photo awaited us inside?

It turned out no photo. No photo and again no clarifying information whatsoever, just a signature, "Beep and Mary" (his wife).

If Beep had undergone gender reassignment surgery, this had to be the most subtle, oblique way anyone had ever been told. Ever. We weren't sure what he was scared of, if this was the case. We're gay (well, gay and bi); if anyone was non-judgmental about alternative orientations, it was us.

We have a very short list of people we're still in contact with who knew Beep. lizzieloudotcom (aka OldFriendBear) agreed with us -- a mysterious photo and a possible printing typo weren't really very much to go on. We also tried to go back over quirks in his personality that might have been clues to this hidden desire. The best we could come up with was his love of soap operas and Capri (lady) cigarettes.

I sent him an email today, full of the usual blah blah blah, but prefaced with a blunt request to know what was going on (well, blunter than he'd been with us up to now), as well as an assurance that we love him no matter what. I'd hate to think that our initial reaction (which OFB described as essentially "pointing and laughing") scared him back into the proverbial closet (do transgenders have closets? Hmmmmm) If he fails to give us some answers with this mail I don't know what I'll do. It's hard to force someone to deal with you from 2000 miles away.

~*~

Christmas was absolutely unprecedented, mainly because for the first time I felt like I hooked Tery up as much, if not more, than she did me.

Her big big presents included a crokinole board. Crokinole is a Canadian game Tery played at our neighbors and hasn't stopped raving about since. The problem is the boards are all lovingly handcrafted only in Canada. I opted for this one as one of the cheaper, in case she loses interest in 6 months. I also got her a new digital camera since our old Fuji is pathetic -- bulky to carry, with a viewfinder so dark you literally have to just point blindly and hope your subject is properly framed, and no advanced options. This Canon has an easy mode for me and an expert mode for her, is half the size and was a lot cheaper than I expected (I'll admit I was inspired by swankyfunk's sexy Sony Cybershot, but the Canon had higher reviews for less dinero). It was a big hit on Christmas day.

Smaller but no less exciting gifts were a slicing mandoline, which I bought on a whim only to discover she's always wanted one but never said a word about it, an introductory Proactiv trial kit (which I knew she wanted desperately but would never get around to ordering herself), as well as a pillow that cost more than $20 (the "over $20" was her only stipulation. Hard to shop for pillows online, but she seems extremely satisfied with my choice).

I didn't make out too badly either. I received the videogame Portal which came highly recommended from dean_r. I got Sense and Sensibility: The Screenplay and Diaries by Emma Thompson because bluemoon02 hinted Rickman was mentioned once or twice (the icon for this post is my only Emma one. Ignore the gloomy sentiment). Tery also got me this gorgeous Rickman mousepad so when I'm spacing out trying to figure out which word a doctor is TRYING to say I at least have something pretty to stare at.

My big big present, however, was a Blu-ray player. Refurbished, which I'm glad for -- new ones are still ridiculously expensive, and I vowed never to overspend again after our first ever DVD player cost $400, when it was still cutting edge technology.

The problem was that it wasn't much of a surprise. I didn't cheat or peek or anything, I just had ample clues to figure it out on my own, because I'm not stupid. The first one was a conversation we had over lunch one day when she was lamenting not having any good ideas for me. "...and you don't want a Blu-ray player, so I just don't know what to get you." I responded, "Who said I didn't want a Blu-ray player? I'd LOVE a Blu-ray player!" Then literally the next day she started gloating about what a great Christmas I was going to have (we do this every year -- constant reminders to build the excitement).

Further hints were the fact that my present was going to spawn limitless hours of my favorite activity, shopping for myself, and shopping for my favorite items (which everyone knows is DVDs). Also that almost all of my other Christmas gifts were related to the big big one. Then she wrapped it and put it under the tree, and it was the size of, well, a Blu-ray player.

It was tough not to burst her bubble and admit I knew what it was, so I played along gamely until opening it. She was somewhat clever -- my family, not getting the memo that I was now going hi-def, had sent me a handful of regular DVDs. She had me open enough of those that I started to doubt my guess. So when I opened the player I actually cried in happiness.

I cried again when we popped in the first of my Blu-ray discs, Wall-E. When we first got a DTS stereo receiver and speakers, we spent a long time deciding on a "showcase" DVD that showed off the system in the best light (the result was Lion King). I think the Blu-ray showcase movie has to be Wall-E. There aren't enough words in the English language to describe how gorgeous it looks. Breathtaking. Heartstopping. And yes, tearjerking.

I blame it on the fact that all day Christmas Eve I had been struggling with a strange eye-tearing of my right eye only. More annoying than painful (it's not easy to type with one hand holding a hot pack over your eye), but as a result by that night half my vision was blurry and water-filled. Oh, the irony, I was finally experiencing true high definition and I could only see out of one eye. It's better today, thanks for your concern, but I'll admit I was more than a little worried. I woke up at 2 a.m. with the ridiculously melodramatic thought, "I finally have a reason to see and I'm going blind!" Pah.

Tery also got me Kung Fu Panda and Batman Begins on Blu-ray. I was thrilled to death, but suddenly Tery realized the error she had made: She had intended to give me Dark Knight, but apparently Target had displayed them side by side and she was thrown by the lack of the word "Batman" in the other title. I reassured her that I love Begins just as much, but she was inconsolable, especially when she realized I already own Begins in standard definition. That's what she gets for not liking the same movies I do (kidding!) She's afraid of turning into her mother, who has a long history of giving gifts just a few degrees off of what was actually asked for. I was excited though because the Blu-ray has some new features, and above all else this is why I wanted a player in the first place: so I would have my choice of the best features from all available versions.

But of course this began a whole new saga for me. I had three movies from my wishlist from my family that I preferred to exchange for Blu-rays, Kung Fu Panda, Dark Knight and Hancock. I knew they had been purchased from Amazon so I went there first.

Amazon has a handy menu choice for returns, "Was this received as a gift?" However, when you click "yes," you're then asked to enter the Amazon order number. Evidently it's never occurred to Amazon how tactless it is to tell your family that you're exchanging all their gifts for better ones, and you need their ordering info.

I tried instead to call a customer representative to explain. I thought it would be simple -- the discs were brand new, unopened in plastic. I wanted to exchange them for more expensive items (obviously I'd pay the difference). I felt it was a win-win situation.

The person I spoke to was probably in India (it was Christmas Eve night). His accent was so thick I could barely understand him when he started asking me to jump through hoops. He needed to know the sender's name and address, the address it was delivered to, etc. etc. etc. This info was different for every disc (I couldn't remember which had been delivered directly to me and which had come via my mother's house), and when I failed to answer correctly he would just say, "I'm sorry, not possible, not possible." I said, my voice tinged with an unmistakeable edge of anger that usually sends up red warning flags to anyone who knows me, "It's not possible for me to send you brand new, still sealed DVDs and buy other, more expensive ones from you instead." "No, not possible, not possible." I hung up on him in frustration.

I showed him not possible. I went to Target instead, claimed they were bought with cash in California, and they were happy to take them back. Then I went to the Blu-ray section to buy the discs I did want. Simple. Win-win. Very possible. Also instant gratification, no waiting for shipping both ways. The rest of that night was spent composing an outraged letter to Amazon letting them know how far they dropped the ball, because I still remember when they were an up and coming company that was interested in keeping their customers satisfied. Back when I still loved them.

I hope you all had as fantastic a Christmas as we did, shortlived sagas aside.