I swear I’m not posting this just so he’ll read my blog more often. I do give my brother a hard time a lot for doing things like framing me for toothpaste ensconcement, but he really is a great guy.
Anyhow, in the summer of 2009 when I visited my brother in Boston, one of the places on my list of things to do and see in Boston was a hat shop called Toppers. This little shop was truly a hat-lover’s delight and was jam-packed with lots of hatty goodness. I’m not entirely sure how long I spent in the store, but it was well longer than enough time for my and my brother’s respective husbands to get bored and go walk around elsewhere. It was also enough time for the salesman at the counter to give me weary looks as I tried on about 90% of the hats in the store. “Is there something I can help you find?” he asked me, not looking especially hopeful. I didn’t need any help, though. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but I knew I would know it when I found it.
At last, I found it–a beautiful wool hat in the perfect shade of Liz Green. My heat soared–that is, until I looked at the price tag and saw that it was, although not out of reach, much more than I could rationalize spending on a hat. I continued to try on hats but always came back to the green one. It really did look like it was made for me. But no, I just couldn’t justify it.
I left the store with a woven purple and white striped bucket hat. It was cute, but it was really just a consolation prize.
That October, on my birthday, a very large but light package from my brother was delivered to my doorstep. Generally, my brother and I don’t go overboard money-wise when it comes to giving each other gifts. However, for years, he has given me gifts with the theme of Little Kid/Grown-Up, which is always fun and amusing. For example, on year it was a package of Nerds as the little kid gift and a box of delicious fine chocolates from Gail Ambrosius as the grown-up gift. I opened the box without even remotely thinking of my trip to Toppers in July. At the top of the box sat an envelope marked “Little Kid.” In it was a card depicting Mickey Mouse ears and wishing me a happy birthday. I don’t think I need to tell you what else the box held. My jaw dropped and my mouth hung open for quite some time.
When I wear that hat, which is one of my favorites in my considerable collection, his thoughtful gift warms my head, and my heart.
Okay, enough sappy stuff. Did I ever tell you about how my brother used to trap me in the bathroom when I was little?