Night two's gift was The Ground Beneath Her Feet, by Salman Rushdie. It's a first edition, pretty nice. I like hardcover books. Presents are great.
On night three, there were two seperate packages for me to open, one marked "3a," and the other marked "3b." I opened 3b first, probably contravening the logic of the grand reveal. It was a cannister of some nice-smelling tea. 3a was a little cherry-red vacuum flask with a built-in tea strainer and splash-guard lid. It has rubber gaskets around its seals, and so I think it'll be leak-proof enough to throw in my messenger bag along with books and papers.
I haven't had a chance to thank mom for the flask yet, so I'll do it publicly, on the internet:
Thanks, mom.
This is the latest in a long tradition of utilitarian gifts from mom. Two Chanukahs ago she gave me a sturdy webbing belt from Patagonia (the activewear company, not the region of South America) that I now use to hold up my pants on a regular basis, and am wearing right now. Last Chanukah, she sent me a scarf that made my first winter as a commuter cyclist more bearable. Once, when I was probably eight years old, she gave me a label maker. I still haven't figured that one out.
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