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My aunt is a giver of choice gifts.  She is reponsible for the matching buttoneered license plate frames that adorn our car, which were an anniverary present.  Apparently, the 2nd anniversary is not cotton, but kitsch.  For years, she has insisted that I am still in love with all things frog, and has bought me no fewer than 3 sets of frog pajamas on my birthday.  I thought finally she was relenting when, last year, she gave us a gift card to Barnes & Noble for Hanukkah.   breathed a sigh of relief.  But, oh, no.  This year was no exception. My  newest frog pajamas (with matching fuzzy slippers) were earmarked as a donation to Mr. Apron’s work as soon as I tore the paper off.  A few short weeks later, we opened our anniversary box to find a pair of these:


Yes, that is a giant pirate martini glass with “Cannon ball” written on the  base. 

I was regaling my coworkers with tales of my aunt’s atrocious gifts, when one of them showed undue interest in the martini glasses.  Turns out her family celebrates the holidays by doing what used to be called a Chinese auction, but is more P.C. to call a tacky gift pollyanna.  She knew, she just knew, she would win for worst (and therefore, best) gift with my martini glasses.  So I donated them to her cause. 

“But what will you do if your aunt comes to visit and asks to see them?” she inquired.

The last time I saw my aunt was at my wedding, 4 years ago.  If she saw us more often than that, she might know I’ve moved beyond frog pajamas and that we don’t drink at all.  Not even pirate martinis.