Now look.

There’s something to be said for husbands who are creative and capable of purchasing the most awesomely fabulous birthday gifts ever known to God or man – WITH NO OUTSIDE ASSISTANCE.

As in, ALL ON THEIR VERY OWN.

No one behind the scenes saying, “If you want to get laid, here’s what you have to buy for her…”

Do you know what that is? What’s that? There’s a glare? Oh, I’m sorry – here’s one without the flash:

Now do you recognize it? Of course you do. IT’S A BRAND-FREAKIN’-NEW-SEWING-MACHINE. There are stitches on that machine that I’ve never even SEEN before. Now I have to go learn how to USE them! Do you have any idea how exciting this is?!?

Some of you who have been around for a bit are thinking, “What the hell? Didn’t she just get a sewing machine for her birthday last year?” And the answer is yes. Yes, I did, in fact, receive a sewing machine for my birthday last year. It was the most basic sewing machine known to mankind, which is fabulous for someone who hasn’t the faintest idea how to use one, right?

But that sewing machine and I – we have been through some hard times. I have asked that little sewing machine to do things that no basic sewing machine has dreamed of. Sew through three layers of corduroy? No problem! Satin appliques with a heavy-duty needle? I got this, yo.

And you know, after a year of that crap, my sewing machine is tired. I don’t blame it. I have coddled it, babied it, begged – please, little sewing machine, just a few more stitches and this bag will be finished, please don’t fail me now – and I have cleaned it, oiled it, adjusted things that I shouldn’t know about adjusting, just to get those last few stitches in. I have never heard a single squeal of protest.

But I am certain that I heard, from its position of honor in the back of the minivan, a sigh of relief when my husband wandered through the front door carrying this baby today. My grandmother said, “Can the old one retire to my house?” and like most dogs, cats and other small furry animals, my sewing machine put its hand in the air and said, “Oh! Pick me! Pick me!”

Tomorrow it will be on its way to green pastures in my grandmother’s guest bedroom, and tonight the new, heavy-duty model will be making sweet, sweet – er, creations – with me.

Right after I make some sweet, sweet – er, creations – with my husband. Because he is a rockstar.

Also – and equally fabulous – was my “combined present” from Mike and Zion:

YEAH, BABY. I am a huge, huge fan of pearls. I have no idea why. I love them. They make me feel like a natural woman. Wait – did you need another look?

There ya go. Sit back and absorb the awesomeness that is Mike, and the luckiness that is me.

Ok, so that didn’t make a whole crap-ton of sense, but you get the idea.

Know what he got from me? A video game. I am not nearly as awesome as he is. No rockstar points for me. It wasn’t even a particularly great video game. Know what I got for Christmas?

Yep. Moonstones. And a matching necklace and earring set. They’re not currently photographing well.

Know what he got?

Underwear. Not kidding. I got him underwear for Christmas.

I suck at this game.