I am not married to a romantic. Don’t get me wrong, he has his moments—lots of them, actually—but not really when it comes to gifts. He doesn’t give me flowers—
ever. He is of the opinion that when a man buys a woman flowers he’s feeling guilty about something. And he doesn’t buy perfume or pretty trinkets, though at times he has gifted me with some of my favorite earrings. No, my hubby is a practical gift giver.
I have at least three brief cases, despite the fact I’ve never worked in a field where they were needed. One he even told me he bought because it would hold folders and such but looked like a purse instead of a briefcase. That gift proved that he’d never really looked at a purse. I’ve also received two digital cameras—with all the extras—despite the fact I rarely remember to take photos, and that we now carry our phones with us everywhere. I’ve received speakers for the computer—once a high-def woofer and tweeter—all when I don’t like to listen to anything when I’m working on the computer.
None of that dispels the excitement of receiving a gift from him. He’s also bought all three of the eBook readers I’ve had and a few pretty fabulous things like 
my KitchenAid mixer and kitchen tools. He also learned what I do like in pocketbooks, in spite of the briefcase mix-ups, and he’s discovered that jewelry doesn’t have to be expensive for me to love it. One year when finances were particularly tight he wrapped a bag of miniature Baby Ruth candy bars, and it thrilled me. When the right sentiment is behind it, any gift can be wonderful.
I smile (or try to) no matter what the gift, mainly because the man who gives them is far more important than anything he could ever wrap, and because he’s 
given me gifts that can’t be measured in terms of money or usability: his name, his heart, and time to share his life.
Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.
Dee
Only a Good Man Will Do: Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!
Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!