A card, a party, and . . . a litter box

There's a connection, and it's my husband.

Yesterday was his birthday, an occasion that in his mind should involve cards. Although I love heavy paper, letterpress, and monograms, cards—especially those with only a signature added—I've just never been that into cards. But unlike me, Husband comes from a Card Family. When births, deaths, illnesses, graduations, or birthdays occur, there is a good chance my MIL will call with a Card Alert ("Just thought you'd want to send a card!"), even though we're sometimes talking about people I barely know. When she receives a card, she likely call us to report the card and/or bring the card over for us to see ourselves. The apple falls not far from the tree. Husband saves up his cards as they arrive in the mail, and on the morning of his birthday announces "Now I will open my cards!"

So you can imagine how disappointed he was to not receive a card from either Sophie or me?Somehow I think of cards as something you send, not something you just hand to someone who lives in the same house as you. You think I'd remember that on every significant occasion, I find a card waiting for me on the kitchen table. But I had bought him a gift, and isn't a gift always better? Apparently not. Although he was somewhat confused by his gift, he was not displeased (see below). Still, he called me at work later in the day to report that he felt a little blue about the lack of cards.

So Sophie and I threw him a little party.

We had a school event that evening, so it was a quick pizza dinner at home, but we did it up with china, a CARD, a crown,

flowers, candles, streamers, and bubbly.

He was surprised and very happy.

His gift? An electronic cat litter box! Because scooping the litter box (twice daily—he's a very tidy man) in the wake of our three cats is a horrible chore.

Me: Isn't it wonderful??

H: Oh yes, it is. . . . I just didn't know that I . . .

Me: Wanted one? Like when you bought me a motor scooter for my birthday and I thought it was part of a plot to kill me?

H: Yes, sort of. It's just so . . .

Me: Practical. Exactly! Like when you got me a toaster for Valentine's Day! Remember how happy I was about that? It meant you were really thinking about me. Making toast.

And so I am thinking about him. And Sophie? She gave him a $10 bill (cleverly hidden beneath his card) because she knows that the property tax is due soon. We love him so much.