A Welcome Gift

Toni Morrison on the cover of The New Yorker

Just when I am sure that I have absolutely everything a woman could want, Steve thinks up a gift that is going to charm me 52 weeks a year.

He told me that for Christmas he was ordering The New Yorker for me.

"I have always wanted that," I blurted out.  "In fact, I tried to order it on my own and then something went wrong and I never finished off the order form."

I seemed to wait forever for the magazine to begin.

I told Steve I didn't think it would ever arrive.  He investigated for me to find out what the hold-up was.

Still no magazine, but the free tote that came with the subscription came.

I said to Sumin, "Look I have the free tote, but not the magazine." 

She gave me a blank look (rabbit-caught-in-the-headlights) and then said, "Oh there has been a magazine coming here that is in the name of Steve Carter, and I didn't know who that was."

She pulled out some issues for me.

As well, that day I got into Miranda's van with her and looked on the floor.  "Oh, you have The New Yorker too," I exclaimed.

"No," she said.  The mailman just delivers it to the wrong address.  I think it belongs to you.

So hooray!

I am one totebag and two issues into the subscription and loving it. 

As well, I am having Sumin read some of the articles aloud to me and as she reads, I help her with accent reduction.  And I get to enjoy the jokes twice.  She is laughing -- a bit -- especially at the comic issue and the article about Roz Crantz.

A gift I never expected

A gift that is a joy to receive.

Arta