Merry Christmas from the Mad Bomber

And so, just like that, the Christmas season is over. The Boy From Work and I have passed through our first Christmas together, and I thought we did it in fine fashion. I wrapped his presents, made up a stocking (crammed with random things like disposable heat pads, beef jerky, iced tea, chocolate, and magazine subscriptions--this is just how we do things in my house), and asked him to do the traditional pose-by-the-tree holiday shot. We survived. We did fine.

And I think I did particularly fine. Sure, the BFW might not be what you'd call 100% thrilled with some of the clothes I bought because I thought he'd look good in them, but he is 100% thrilled with one of his presents, which, really, was the crowning glory of all my Christmas shopping: the fur-lined bomber hat.

When the BFW visited me back in October, we took a ride to Freeport and visited the LL Bean flagship store (which is, interestingly enough, open 24 hours a day every single day of the year). Once there, the BFW took to a giant wall display that boasted lots of fur-lined bomber hats in every color and fabric imaginable. He told me he used to have a hat like that, that he loved that hat like nothing else, and he lost it. He was sad about that. He was really, really fond of the hat.

I, however, was not fond of the bomber hats. I mean, a fur-lined, ear-flapped hat doesn't scream SEXY!, SOPHISTICATED!, or DEBONAIR! in any language. And I could see by the gleam in the BFW's eyes that once he put that hat on his head, it was going to be a real fight to get it off. That made me nervous.

But still, that gleam in his eyes haunted me for the entire Christmas shopping season until finally, when I realized I was going to have to go to LL Bean to get the LED head lamp my father wanted (more on that hilarity later), I broke down and decided to buy the hat for the BFW. He was just so thrilled when that warm hat was clamped down on his head, and I knew I couldn't deprive him of a winter full of that thrill.

So I didn't.