It just goes to show you: Some people like getting a new Webkinz for their birthdays, or maybe even a scented candle. But then there are those people who beam like the summer sunshine when confronted with four cases of George Killian's Irish Red.
There, at last, thanks to the wonders of modern digital and internet technology, is my husband, the Prince of Salesmen, receiving his birthday gift yesterday evening. Photo credit goes to Meelyn, whose quick-on-the-trigger reflexes caught him right at the moment of astounded joyfulness. Guess it's not so bad being a Christmas baby after all, huh?
The girls and I have been buying the Irish Red in the 12-bottle cases ever since the beginning of November, secreting it around the house. He almost caught us with a case once, and Meelyn had to hustle it indoors while Aisling and I detained him in the driveway by telling him that we thought we were losing air in one of the van's tires. It was a lot of fun, all that scheming, and it was an ever greater pleasure when we saw the expression on his face.
I'm hoping now he'll be softened up enough to put my great-grandmother's chandelier up in the foyer and move the light fixture in the foyer out to the kitchen and then put her other chandelier up in our bedroom, moving the light fixture in our bedroom down to a box in the basement. Honey?
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