Grand gesture, part 2

Yes, an iPod. This is a grand gesture, people, so it was the good one. 30 GB, video capability – like the one I use, but half the storage space. Because, well, I didn’t buy mine.

Little Chandler helps me a great deal sometimes. Distracts me with audiobooks, plays short Pixar cartoons when I’m waiting somewhere, and the music – oh, the music – that I can shuffle or listen through carefully-created playlists, search through artists or albums, go from Classical to Country to Pop with just a snappy click on my gray wheel. I love it – I’m not sure how I lived without it. I plug it in to my FM transmitter in the car (which was the vital accessory I mentioned yesterday), I use headphones at work, then I have little speakers for home. It’s a pretty constant feature in my life now.

So when I thought of what might provide a great deal of entertainment, making John smile long past the initial arrival of the package, the iPod was so dominant that I couldn’t think of another idea that appealed in the slightest. Plus, I thought of what I wanted engraved.

Two lines. His name – because it’s a good name, and because you should label your iPod so people know it’s yours. Then, Fingers crossed.

Fingers crossed, folks! So elegant, so meaningful, so perfect in my mind.

This little gadget was symbolic (because, for me, what isn’t?) of having hope for the future – knowing that in spite of the potential misery – needlessly cruel people, jobs you should have been offered, papers rejected for trivial reasons, getting gray hair, gaining more weight than you probably should have, having less money than you envisioned – there is such sparkling joy available – fantastic people (like me! Because I bought him an iPod!), career boosts you may not have deserved, aging gracefully with humor and wisdom, having more friends or patience or love than you envisioned. So it was a physical symbol of hope – wishes for great things in his life.

Likewise, I find myself crossing my fingers for people. Something you can see - a physical expression that represents my sincerest best wishes. Do you get it? Isn’t that great?! I was delighted, especially since my creativity rarely extends to something I think is this cool.

I returned home and settled into organizing a good portion of my music library. 30 GB is huge, and there was plenty of room for a bunch of my stuff while leaving him excessive space for his own music and video files. I spent hours one night in my office, moving files, pulling from my iPod when I couldn’t find the original CDs, organizing music into carefully created folders – classical or classical-like when to Mozart et al., spoken word selections – books, interviews, snippets I’ve collected online – went to a folder called Audible. Potential laughter held my single comedy CD and some particularly funny stuff from Dad’s Bob and Tom collection. Then there were 4 files for my music – one for high school, then college, then grad school, then my current location.

Some of it’s crap – I listen to it more for nostalgic value than musical quality. But some of it is lovely – and I found myself smiling fondly as I moved those artists and songs to the top of the playlists titled for the cities in which I’ve lived. John probably won’t like much of it, but there’s always the option to delete it, right? Or to move the good stuff into playlists of his own so he can enjoy the iPod completely?

After getting sore from sitting in my desk chair for so long, I realized that this might be too much. The money, the time, the big red bow. Hell, I wondered, was this going to freak him out?

So I sat, left iTunes on my screen, and considered my motives as I perched on the bed next to my desk. I slept on it throughout grad school and still find it very comforting.

If you’re doing this with any expectations at all, I lectured myself, you shouldn’t send it. It’s not fair. So I thought – kept turning over the idea in my mind. Did I want anything? Was I trying to get his attention, force him to think of me, make him appropriately grateful so that he would be more easily tricked into loving me so I could just get married already?

Nope, I decided with a fond smile for myself. Not at all. I’d actually feel terrible if he felt that way. My motives were pure – I wanted to make him happy – surprise him with a really cool gift that would ease the irritation of his commutes, make him think, make him laugh, remind him of the hope for goodness. Reassured, I happily went back to play with iTunes, reminding myself that next time I want to do something nice, it should be for a friend with a Mac. Windows in my office was hurting me with the slowness.

Finally tired, though not finished, I went back to my living room. Got email from him that said he was losing hope on the jobs he’d had in mind. Despaired over not knowing what to say, then soothed myself with the thought that I’d at least make some attempt at comfort soon.

I found a foof that I don’t use – bright red corduroy, soft and fuzzy. I wrote a note on a post-it, carefully affixed it to the soft material, and placed it in the box I’d already constructed. There was a big red bow, and a small red iPod case. Apple had shipped little Kathryn (that’s her name, though John can change it – I don’t use the name for myself, so I thought it fair to bestow it on my perfect little present), and the FM transmitter was scheduled to arrive the day before she was.

With pure pleasure, I continued my manipulation of my music library, carefully drafted a card, then sat to write it out. Then the white envelope joined the other items patiently waiting in the box.