For Mother's Day, Blaker bought me: a giant purple glass vase thingie that I had been coveting for a while, and that looks FABULOUS next to the fireplace; a robe that I had been coveting that looks SUPER CUTE on me; and......(trumpets, please) tickets to see WICKED during its Broadway Across America run.
First of all, yes, that's a lot of stuff. Second of all, no, I don't know why he gave me so much stuff, although I like to contribute it to my prowess in the bedroom. (Unfortunately, I suspect it's highly likely that that reason exists only in my own head.) Maybe he just feels bad because Christmas blew so badly last year, along with all parts of 2009. Or maybe, I'm just a WAY more awesome wife than I realize. After all, I DO pack his lunch every day, and I make a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Anyway.
The important thing is that I get to see Wicked.
For those that know me well, one might deduce that Wicked would not appeal to me all that much. While I'm a girl who can appreciate a good opera, I generally think musicals are quite boring. Likewise, crowds freak me the hell out, make me internally (and sometimes externally) scream, "Mayday! Mayday! Permission to retreat!" (no joke, this has actually happened) and there is sure to be a crowd there. But, dude, it's WICKED! Do you KNOW how badly I wish I could be a witch? Not part of that Wiccan nonsense-- (for any Wiccans I may have offended, I appreciate that you are practicing a religion, and I support you in your tree-hugging, granola eating, Mother Earth celebrating ways) but a real, live, fly-around-on-a-freakin' broom and wear-a pointy-hat-kind-of-witch. I want to cackle and put spells on people and have my own large team of flying monkeys (other than the two I'm presently raising). Oh, yes. I want to be a witchy woman.
Besides, I bet I could make those striped tights look damn sexy.