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Old time readers may be familiar with my dear friend Brandy. Brandy is just slightly ahead of dispatcher Sam and Litnetters Meg and AndaveYa in that SHE knows ALL the secrets that hopefully won't be on public display come judgement day while the other three know SOME things depending on the depth of the friendship or my desire to retain their respect and affection. None of them seem to know Logos' phone number.

Now some may be aware of my formerly civil relationship of long time standing with those hearty Internal Revenue Service personnel. Prior to April 2009 I was first to proclaim their sympathy and understanding of the hard times in trying to stay caught up with life and taxes. In April that all changed and I still refuse to blame the Obama administration as opposed to an agent that overdosed on Midol. The consequences have been a bit harsher then expected and someday I hope to share all this (with tears) on Oprah with special guest star Barbara Walters as cheerleader.

In the meantime Christmas shopping has been a non-event. The December bills were almost caught up with today. Ruth has been doing a better then expected job helping out in our constrained conditions. Now in 29 years of marriage I have never failed to buy Ruth at least something for the holidays.

Nor was this year to be an exception.

But I still failed.

Stupidly. The Drama Queen hissed that the word should have been 'miserably' but stupidity as you will see in a few paragraphs is more applicable.

Today Ruth went to get our paychecks out from the credit union and dutifully used my AAA pay to make her car payment and the Dell computer payment. That left me with $25 left.

I was having some success with Morpheus for a change and was daydreaming about how much gasoline to get by on for a week and whether McDonalds or Arbys should be blessed with my presence on the way to work at 4 pm.

My son Daniel was up for the week and had generously dropped off a box from the Bookery of items from my file which lifted my spirits. Avengers Masterworks volume 8, Captain Marvel Masterworks Volume 3, Justice League International Volume 2 and assorted Judge Dredd material. That should take some pressure off in that department.

Plus Alter Ego #88. I already had #89 and the missing link was filled in. But the Bookery had #90 on display for almost two weeks now. Technically they quit holding them for me but I have been buying them anyway and reluctant to give them up on the basis that finding Avengers will be easier in three years then this short print run magazine. Alter Ego is primarily a history of old comics as edited by Roy Thomas who once worked for Marvel Comics as an editor/writer and wrote 70 issues in a row of my beloved Avengers including the famous Kree-Skrull War nine parter that STILL has repercussions down to this day.

Temptation begins to scurry up and down the brain cells. Ruth has an early day at work and mischief adds its zest for life to the equation. I figure out how to have my cake and eat it too.

I get up, shave off a three day growth, shower, check the mail and drive off first to the Faith Christian store. I have it in mind to buy a pin with a cross on it. Knowing the store I can find one fairly cheap, buy Alter Ego #90, lunch it on the cheap at McDonalds and still have gas money.

Man plans, God laughs--then blesses--after a lesson in humility and short sightedness.

I arrive at 3:05 pm at Faith Christian. A drive to work is only 20 minutes so I have plenty of time and the Bookery is right down the street as well. I am pleased with myself. I get HER a present--she can't get me one--I have bragging rights and marriage benefits to finangle. Life will be good on Christmas despite having to work. I have never denied my shallowness but I am at least artistic about it. I will be paying a price for my smugness in about an hour.

Except that Faith Christian closed at 3 pm for the holidays. Missed it by five minutes.

No Plan B.

TV to the rescue. I had been watching Scrubs last night on Hulu and there was a scene where a med student gave J. D. the puppy dog-eyed look to get what she wanted.

I look thru the store window. Yes a customer is about to leave and the store owner made eye contact. He's doomed and he knows it. I make a preying mantis gesture hoping to be mistaken for a Christian (knowing the blackness of my heart) and the door opens. Whining ensues and I'm informed I have five minutes. I tell him I just need a pin. He escorts me over to them and I select an angel one being assured that anchor pins are more for men.

Mission accomplished with much self congratulation and back patting. On to the Bookery. Greetings to owner Tim are made and some short chit chat and Alter Ego #90 is mine--as well as a copy of Back Issue #37 with a World War II theme purchased more for the Unknown Soldier article then the Sgt Rock cover. Lunch is now in jeopardy. Or the gas tank-final decision pending.

McDonalds provides my breakfast-lunch-supper for the day and I'm off to work where disaster in the form of a blue-eyed blonde awaits unbeknownst to me.

I arrive at about 3:45 pm and find Brandy monitoring the Dayton side of dispatch. Doesn't appear to be too busy. I'm feeling fairly good about coming thru for Ruth and want to share the wonderfulness that is me.

I set my bag down and pull out the pin and show it to her. Here is the quote that turned the whole day around.

"Well I worked a Christmas miracle. (Note the theft of glory from God--"I" worked.) I managed to pay most of the bills and still got a Christmas present."

The missing words on the end of the sentence finished me off. If I had simply added the preposition "For Ruth" all might have been salvaged.

Brandy beams and a wide smile lightens up her face as she replies:

"Why thank you Rich, it's beautiful. That was so nice of you."

It's important to note that except for last year Brandy and I used to exchange presents. I never saw this coming. Her obvious pleasure at receiving an unexpected albeit minor thing was too sweet to take back. I hastily grab it and pull the price tag off and give it back. Echoes of The Gift of Magi and the stirring of a blog entry already start to be written in my mind.

I retreat to the back room and call Ruth and tell her I LOST her Christmas present. I'll just get another in January the next time I have money. Ruth chuckles and agrees with that old cliche about the thought being the one to count. Even better -- can always do marriage benefits. This holiday might be worth it afterall.

To Litnet--Merry Christmas to one and all.