Yesterday, I was surprised by my beautiful wife in collaboration with my ever-engaging, well-read family and friends. Together, they all conspired to amass 35 or more books for my 35th birthday. I have to say, it was an elaborate scheme, and I am the lucky beneficiary. In total, I received 49 books.
Apparently, this started back in January after a conversation that her and I had in passing. We were on the topic of gift giving, and I had said something to the effect of... "the only gift I want for my birthday from you is a book from my Amazon Wishlist."
To organize the efforts, a set of instructions were posted to a Google Docs Sheet:
Everyone chose a book or two or three or 10 and listed them on the shared document to avoid any duplication. Smart. Over the course of 2 months, Lucy and Jake (Carolyn's accomplices lol) accumulated packages on my behalf in their apartment.
Then this past Sunday afternoon, Lucy, Jake, and Carolyn somehow coordinated during a window of 12 minutes, while I was out of the house walking the dog, to unload a trunk filled with boxes full of books from all corners of the country traveling by USPS, Amazon, FedEx, or UPS into our garage and managed to escape without being seen. The rest is history. And a world of thanks goes out to them for helping execute the plan. Without you guys, I would have known about the secret back in January. LOL.
There are two awesome components to each gift I received.
First is the idea that the gift giver has to read the book so that we can talk about it at some point in time. I like this because it offers me an opportunity to communicate more often than I normally have in the past. We'll have something to chat about (not that we don't already), and hopefully become more regular about it.
Secondly, the inscriptions that people left me on the inside covers have turned a relatively inexpensive commodity into a priceless possession that I will keep until death do we part. Some notes offer advice, insight, and reminders. Some jog the memory of time when