He's gone off on another one of his errands. This time to drop by Canadian Tire to pick up a package of screws. Those in our cleats that we pull over our hiking winter boots need to be replaced. We've had to begin wearing them already, perambulating through the ravine, because a return to icy weather after a brief period of slight warming has resulted in the snow becoming quite icy and difficult to navigate without the help of the cleats. Wearing them adds to the weight of the boots, but that's how it goes.

While he's out he always finds reasons to drop in at other places. Over the past few years there has been an amazing number of big box and boutique shops, restaurants and foodie-type stores opening not far from where we live. It's rather mind-boggling, actually, but in a sense it's also extremely convenient since we never have to go very far from home to drop in to whatever place that sells items we might be interested in acquiring. And that's aside from the large malls that exist fairly nearby, as well. A shopper's paradise, if that has any meaning.

Invariably, he tends to drop by any number of other places if his destination is one particular place. I never know what he'll bring home, from foodstuffs we already have ample of in the house, to another pair of house slippers for me, or warm tights, or cozy scarfs, or anything of that ilk. I also know that he's on the prowl, becoming ever more desperate to find something of aesthetic value that I will like and wear that he can give me for my 77th birthday. In the past he's bought me rings, watches, bracelets, but how many of each of those does anyone really want to possess?

I've asked him not to bother; they're scandalously priced, not worth his effort, and the cost. But just as he rarely heeds me when it comes to other things he has his mind set on, he'll likely simply proceed as usual, this time, too. It's hard not to feel conflicted about this; it's very nice to have the acknowledgement of another birthday, it's beyond lovely to see the pride and happiness in his face when he presents me with a gift.

The gift itself cannot eclipse the work and creativity he puts into a birthday card that he makes and presents to me for each of these occasions and I've got quite the collection, marking the years that have gone by.