Here’s a Can of WD 40 From Your Secret Santa

I was at work the other day and saw a bag of Epsom salts on a coworker’s desk. There was a small tag on the package that read “From Your Secret Santa”. Seeing as this particular coworker was pregnant and could benefit from relaxing in a tub full of warm but not too warm water- this was an excellent gift.

The moment hammered home to me why I am not buying gifts for any of my or Roscoe’s family this year. While an extremely thoughtful coworker thought to purchase this woman Epsom salts as a Secret Santa. I would have purchased salt. Just salt. Because it’s a requirement for most recipes and it makes everything taste better, ergo in my eyes a box of salt is not only a perfectly acceptable but practical gift.

Other things which I deem to be perfectly reasonable gifts are; windshield washer fluid- because this is Canada and it is winter after all. As well as toilet paper because everyone uses it. Personally I recommend the last item as a potential gift for everyone on your list because if a friend seems upset over this gift it’s perfectly reasonable to assume that they have questionable hygiene habits. Thus you probably shouldn’t be friends with them anymore and this gift giving act has saved you the trouble of an awkward friendship terminating discussion.

After receiving a fire extinguisher and three bags of milk for his birthday two years ago Roscoe took over the responsibility of buying gifts for his and my family. He also tells me explicitly what to purchase for him. Personally I feel this is a little unfair especially after I thoughtfully presented him with thirty 100W incandescent light bulbs for our last anniversary. They met the cheesy “You light up my life” criteria while being functional. I mean really, who doesn’t like light?

Regardless I’ve lost gift giving privileges and am prohibited from joining in on such practices at work due to Roscoe’s fear that I’ll be sacked immediately for giving what are truly awesome and sensible gifts.

A residential smoke detector is the most famil...

This is a great present too because everyone is supposed to have one in their basement but doesn’t. I’d include partially charged batteries to make their holiday more exciting when the “Low Battery” beeps goes off in the dead of night. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

While I’m In Trouble I Might As Well Wear The Hot Pink Tights My Husband Hates

The following conversation occurred multiple times this week.


Roscoe “You know it’s Father’s Day this weekend?”


The Great Unwashed indignantly “Yes.” Even though I had completely forgotten but sometimes I like to be the reasonable one who is always right for a change.


Roscoe “Don’t forget to call or do something for your Dad.”


The Great Unwashed “I already have something planned.” I didn’t but Roscoe has a habit of picking out the perfect gift months in advance then wrapping it up beautifully on the anniversary/birthday/holiday in question and I wanted him to think that for once I had too.


Roscoe “Don’t forget that your Dad is leaving Friday so you need to do it before then.”


The Great Unwashed in an aggravated tone “I know!”


So this conversation happened a couple of times this week. As I hadn’t actually mentioned my made up gift once, Roscoe came to the correct conclusion that I didn’t have anything. This led to more reminders, which led to more white lies on my part.


Hence I might have been really embarrassed and in just a hint of trouble for forgetting yet another occasion last night when my Dad called to tell me he was about to leave the country for two weeks and wanted to say he loved me and would miss me on Father’s Day. However luckily I had gone to bed at eight so the call went straight to voicemail. Roscoe left for the States early this morning so he didn’t hear my cursing when I listened to the message from my dad. I have exactly four hours to sort out something a gift before Roscoe returns.


My Ideas For A Father’s Day Card And Gift So far




I love you so much that my deep affection is so entwined with my being that I forget that it exists and therefore forget to acknowledge it.






Dear Dad,


Once upon a time you forgot me at a Garden Store. This year I forgot Father’s Day- shall we call it even?






Dear Dad,


I’m a bad daughter, you should probably trade me in for a new one.  I’d go for a less disorganized model.






Dear Dad,


England, Ireland  or wherever you are going celebrates Father’s Day in September. In keeping with the customs of the country you are visiting we’ll celebrate then.


This may be a complete lie. Also I’m sorry that I can’t remember the country you’re travelling to.



Although it appears that the child is the one having the most fun, what you cannot see is the joyful smile of the forty year old man who spent three hours in the hot sun assembling this fantastic gift. Photo Courtesy of

Although it appears that the child is the one having the most fun, what you cannot see is the joyful smile of the forty year old man who spent three hours in the hot sun assembling this fantastic gift.
Photo Courtesy of

Dear Dad,


Once we bought you a giant trampoline for Father’s Day. You never once used it. It was a pretty selfish gift. I decided to do one better this Father’s Day and not buy anything for either you or myself. You’re welcome.






Dear Dad,


My only talent as a daughter lies in my creative writing ability. I hope you enjoyed this belated Father’s Day post. I love you. Always






Roscoe has returned from the States with a shiny new stethoscope. While he was gone I thought of two ideas for a Father’s Day gift- golf clubs and a new fishing reel.


It’s unfortunate that my father doesn’t golf or fish.


The wall.

I’m going to put on my new hot pink tights that Roscoe hates, text my Dad a link to this post and then own up to the fact that I didn’t have anything planned.


Hopefully my tights will be so loud that Roscoe won’t be able to hear the sound of me forgetting yet another holiday.