Aside from br the hubby’s birthday on Thursday (his 32nd for my 32nd Thursday Thirteen) it was my friend Robin’s birthday on Monday. Now, being useless at buying gifts, I figured I’d go with what I know. Robin’s really involved with scrapbooking and altered books. Me, I’m in the very beginner stages of scrapbooking but still assumed it couldn’t be that difficult to find a variety of standard scrapbook items for her birthday present. I picked up paper, stickers, photo corners, page protectors, a storage box and a scrapbook album. Now, being the cheapskate Scot that I am, I decided to buy an album for me when I noticed they were on sale…

Of course, I bought two of the same colour albums.

Once I arrived home from the store, I promptly stored most of Robin’s gift away but put both of the photo albums on the shelf. Then, in a fit of madness, I attempted to work on a few pages containing bits and pieces a past fishing and camping trips. I’m a fits and starts type of scrapbooker. I’ll spend hours on a few pages, then close the book and not look at it again for weeks. No dedication to the cause apparently.

But I digress, this story is about Robin and me, not just me.

I’m a last minute wrapper. I’m sure having to dig under my bed for the rubbermaid box containing all our gift bags and wrapping paper has something to do with it. If I hold off long enough and act pathetic enough, the hubby will crawl under the bed, battle the dust bunnies, and return victorious with bags, tags, paper, tape, etc.

I waited. Drew retrieved. I gathered up all of the items I’d purchased. Since I’m a lazy wrapper, I put all of the small items in the storage box I’d purchased and then promptly dropped the box in a gift bag. We didn’t have a bag large enough to fit the album and page protectors, so I grabbed the album off the shelf and conned Drew into wrapping it for me. Presents wrapped and birthday card signed, I was all prepped for the grand opening and all the ensuing “oohing” and “ahhing” that goes with it.

Despite Robin’s birthday being on the Monday, I didn’t have a chance to see her before our weekly Friday get together (karaoke). I arrived at the bar with gifts in tow. Robin was, as usual, late. Upon arrival, she dug right into her gifts – first opening her card, then the storage box/supplies/gift bag combo. Finally, she dug into the wrapping paper and found herself the proud owner of a new scrapbook album and page protectors.

Or so we thought.

Robin opened the album and to my immediate mortification said “Cool, recycled memories”. I’d pulled the album I’d been working on off the shelf and wrapped it instead of the blank one I’d bought for Robin. Of course she insisted on viewing my pathetic attempts at putting a few pages together. All the bar regulars also got a good glimpse when they trotted over to our table to see what Robin had received for gifts. Lobster red, I kept insisting that there really was a blank book for Robin and that I’d accidentally wrapped the wrong one.

I don’t think anyone other than Robin believed me.

The bartender and karaoke hostesses shared the story around the bar. There was nowhere to hide.

Drew decided at this moment that he was too tired to hang around until the end of the night and hit Robin up to drive me home. That way, he could take the truck and haul himself off to bed. Prior to leaving, I asked him to get the correct book for Robin from the office and put it on the kitchen table so I wouldn’t forget to replace mine with the blank one intended for her. Bless his little heart he did exactly as instructed – he even left the lights on so we could see – with the one minor exception of locking me out of the house.

So there we were, standing on the back porch, looking at the kitchen table. I started ringing the door bell and pounding on the door, but not a creature stirred. After five minutes of futile noisemaking, I decided to try the front door. Groping my way around to the front of the house in the dark, I hit on a winner. Immediately after ringing the front doorbell and knocking on the door, the dogs went nuts. Barking, growling, and generally forcing Drew to get out of bed. He dove out of the bedroom door and ran for the back door. “Great” I thought, “I’m at the front and he’s at the back!”. Robin saved me from what could have been a comedy of errors, pointing him in my direction and finally, I was let into the house.

The nightmare was over. Robin was presented with the correct scrapbooking album. We sat out on the back porch babbling away for hours. I’m sure the story will be passed around for generations – or at least to all her friends and family.

The embarrassment and shame will die down soon…

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