Hi HIC:

I made my T a gift and some fudge. The gift was kinda funny/serious. I think if your t understands you she will get the joke.... And still prob read. I think it's funny gettin a T a self help book. Kinda wished I'd thought of that.... Damnit!

Thanks for the input, CTL.

Upon reflection, I agree that my T knows my sense of humor and the sorts of books I gravitate to well enough to receive the gift in the spirit it would be offered. I also think I know her well enough to predict that she'd enjoy however much of it she read.

But (there's always a "but", right? ) somehow I feel the timing is off. I might give it to her next year, if we are still together then, or for her birthday, if I can figure out when that is.

I gave my T a pair of leather gloves and a calendar I with made with my photos. She thanked me on giving her the gifts and for them today. I was very surprised to see the calendar in the Counselling room, I thought that was nice of her.

Hijack away, I was "done" with thread anyway. I didn't end up getting T anything, alas. I chickened out about the self help book I guess, and nothing else was striking me as ideal. She didn't have anything for me either, but I was figuring that was a given.

So, what did your T get you? (If you don't mind sharing, that is.) That is so cool that she gave you a present! Would love to hear about it.

Chezza,
Sounds like you chose some lovely gifts for your T. Leather gloves are a great present for anyone, and it's always nice to add a personal touch. . . I mean using your own photos to create the calendar. How awesome that she is displaying it in the counseling room! That must feel good.

I just got back from a four day vacation in New Orleans with H. His parents very kindly watched out kids. While I was there, I thought it would be another good opportunity to get "Lost in the Cosmos" for T, and I actually went so far as to buy it for her at a nifty bookstore in the Quarter. However, once I got back to our hotel I realized I was the one who wanted the book, wanted to read it again. I decided to keep it, and then perhaps it was the influence of the city or of Diane Ackerman (see my post in the book forum) but I decided this was all fodder for poetry about therapy and started writing. I thought T might like the poem, and the next day I went back to the same bookstore and bought a small reddish brown blank book with an embossed cover. I'm going to write the poem in the first few pages and explain the story and give it to her as a gift, unless I lose my nerve first, lol.

"Book Buying Travel Notes"

Three days ago
in Faulkner House Books,
in the French Quarter,
in New Orleans,
I rolled out the magic carpet of the mind
and sailed my way
(above all roads and encumbrances of fact)
into the azure habitation
where all possible encounters
are stored.

There you are,
again-
your office,
the same.
I grip the book for the eighth or ninth time,
and try out the next in my evolving series of speeches:
The Presentation.
I explain the moment,
how I was
in Faulkner House Books,
in the French Quarter,
in New Orleans,
and that, "I thought of you!"
I explain about Percy-
how I love him,
how he's local to my youth!
And so amazing!
And especially this book--
and how I thought. . .
and so I thought. . .

Bored, I switch off the speech.
I skip ahead to the coveted moment
of acceptance,
the book a meeting place,
the three of us rippling with the same
wise and sad smile at the Universe.

Heady, I gasp tangible air at Faulkner House.
Back. I wasn't gone long.
Now to find Percy, who is surely here.
I round a corner and eye dive into his shelf, scanning spines.
Though we are "Lost in the Cosmos,"
it is predictably placed, as hoped.
And taken now in my willing hands.

Onward, shop!

You want me to be, I know,
an embodied poem by a particular author,
although you would not put it that way.
But Mary Oliver, too, is happily here, and so a nice fat "New and Selected
Poems" joins "Lost in the Cosmos."
I buy them both.

2.

Later, insomnolent in an ancient (for America) hotel,
the books themselves begin to speak
and tell of how they belong together and are mine,
and every moment a synthesis but that especially
in Faulkner House,
Louisiana,
when the carpet of pilgrimage unrolled
and I met a disguised image of me
who said yes to a faltering desire
and chose what she needed
for herself.

For my therapist, instead,
she hummed a few contented thoughts,
which I stuck in a quick set poem
composed on Dauphine Street,
since place matters,
and a poem, too,
is a kind of place--

also more personal
and shorter to read.

Thanks, poppet.

My session is in a little less than an hour. I am nervous.

Wow, impressive poem!

What a great poem. That's one special gift. I am sure she will be delighted.

Aw, thank you, my lovelies.

It went better today than I was even hoping, and certainly much better than I was fearing. My anxiety about sharing the poem with her was really mounting as the session drew near. H told me I seemed more nervous about showing a poem to T than he had been about proposing to me.

But, I sort of forgot the obvious, that this was not a case of my poem or me being on trial, and the fact of a surprise gift and the charm of the little book itself (it really is a pretty journal) would make T happy. The poem was more of an extra, a personal touch.

The good thing was, T really got it, the whole experince. It turns out she's a New Orleans fancier as well and has visited there at least a few times. She was familiar with the places I wrote about and visited, even the specific street I mentioned and the hotel I stayed at.

When the session started I just chattered a little about where we had been, asked if she was a "New Orleans person" and she said, "Oh yes, I love New Orleans." So we talked about some specific places, and I told her about the bookstore, and then I suddenly said, "I have a present for you!"

"Oh!" said T, looking surprised and pleased/touched. That reminded me she is just human. Humans like presents. So I fished it out of my purse and handed it to her. It was looking rather nice, I think, I had wrapped it in brown kraft paper and tied it with raffia. I think she liked the wrapping, or at least she was looking at it admiringly.

Then she unwrapped it and exclaimed a bit over the journal and said it was really lovely, and thanked me. She opened it and saw the poem and started to read and I was like, "Wait, don't read the poem yet!" because I wanted to explain and give a little background.

So after I chattered on a bit I gave her permission to read it out loud. She smiled through a lot of it, and chuckled at the part about Mary Oliver, because it's true T is always nagging me to read more of her, so I think she was glad I had bought one of her books and worked it into the poem the way I did.

When she was done she grinned and said, "Wow, that was great!"
"Did you like it?"
"Yes! I did. I think it's very good. I loved your images, especially the one about the azure habitation where all possible encounters are stored. I think it (indicating the journal) is even lovelier now. But I shouldn't be surprised, because you're a good writer. This is a lovely present; thank you."

Even if she said some of that just to be nice, her overall pleasure seemed sincere and that was the main thing and a relief.

The most amazing thing about T though, is how she seems to understand everything (almost everything). We went on to talk in more depth about what things like writing, and location, and the books in question, and the process of shopping for her meant to me. She just "gets" it all, seemingly so naturally. I wonder if it's because we really are similar kinds of people, or if it's more that she has developed the knack of connecting with clients to a very high degree. Either way, I feel so lucky to know her.