So, in November I came to the conclusion that my life would not be complete without a pink phone. (FYI, we don’t have a landline so this would be a non-working yet still somehow still very essential-to-my-existence telephone.) I mean…I don’t know, you guys! The heart wants what it wants. I conveniently located one in a booth very close to my own booth in Gas Lamp Too antique mall in Nashville and took a picture and sent it to the Mister.
The Mister enjoys surprising me for holidays. That is to say, he does not actually appreciate being told what to buy me. However, I figured that he might make a special exception for this phone, which anyone could see that I just had to have. Because a 50-year-old pink, non-working phone is the obvious gift of choice for a 41-year-old wife and mother of two. I mean, I clearly needed one. Maybe more than one.
Being the Mister, he ignored my request for the phone, which I took as an indication that he was taking me very seriously and had very likely already purchased it. He is wiley, the Mister. But I am on to him.
A few weeks later, we were working on re-stocking my booth at the antique mall. I subtly suggested that we stroll by the booth where my pink phone was located…only to find that is was gone.
“You did buy it for me, right?” I asked. “Absolutely not,” he responded, “If you are waiting for me to get you that phone, you will be very disappointed. Or maybe I can get you one at the flea market?” The last time the Mister bought me a phone at the flea market, he had a loud debate with a vendor about whether or not Dinah Shore was a lesbian (The Mister says yes, by the way), but still…Dinah Shore’s orientation is not something we discuss with strangers at the flea market with geriatric phone vendors! Although if the Mister is anything to go by, that is exactly what we do discuss.
“I feel very confident that you have somehow both purchased this phone and squirreled it away in such a way that I will never suspect that you actually have it. And if you have not,” I declared ominously, “There is always the flea market.”
“I’m not paying flea market prices for a pink phone.” FYI, the vendor of the Dinah Shore debate seems to be a nice man but he does charge a lot. He will throw the occasional free trumpet solo in with your purchase, which may or may not add value, depending on what you think of flea market trumpeters.
“Humph. You can’t fool me.” I rejoined, silently noting that there was still one flea market weekend before Christmas, and wondering if poor Dinah Shore would be rolling over in her grave, again.
Well, Merry Christmas to me! I’m the proud owner of one totally useless pink phone and I couldn’t be more pleased. I hope that Santa Claus (or your very own version of the Mister) also brought you whatever your little hearts desired.