Each year, my family asks me what I want for Christmas. And every year I tell them the same thing: “I don’t know.” I know it’s obnoxious, but I really don’t know.

When I think or see something I want, I buy it. I needed a new set of headphones for my office computer, so when I was in Target one day last week, I bought a pair. Only afterward did it dawn on me that I could tell someone about my need and let them get me the headphones.

Also, some things I want I’m real particular about. Like, I’ve been wanting an Incredible Hulk action figure for many months, now. But all the ones I see in the stores aren’t like what I want. I want one that’s to scale with my Captain America and Iron Man action figures, and I want him in his classic attire (torn purple pants). So I can’t just tell anyone that I want “a Hulk action figure” because they probably wouldn’t get me the one I really want. (I can’t even find the one I really want.)

The only things I want that I have found, and I haven’t bought for myself yet are much too expensive to tell someone about. A new flat- & wide-screen TV, a new car, etc. I mean, when Aunt May asks, “What’s something you’d like for Christmas?” I can’t really respond with “A 2009 black Mustang.”

So what I end up getting for Christmas are gift certificates to Barnes & Noble or Target or Toys R Us. And although family members who give me the certs think they’re not good gifts, I think they’re great. In fact, I don’t even see the certs as certs.

I look at a B&N certificate and I immediately see Wil Wheaton’s latest book or a Frank Miller graphic novel. Target certificates, I see a new computer game or a new book shelf for holding my ever-expanding D&D junk. Toys R Us certs, I see a McFarlane action figure or a Lego Star Wars spaceship model.

This is all stuff that I haven’t bought for myself yet, but no one could pick out for me on their own. My tastes aren’t really high-society, but they’re pretty damn complicated.

Bullgrit

Me and the boys were riding in the van with some good old rock and roll playing on the radio. I’m so happy that my boys like my old music.

Peter Frampton came on with “Do You Feel Like We Do”. I love that song from his Frampton Comes Alive! album. Doesn’t everyone?

When Peter was into his talk box part, Calfgrit7 asked, “Dad, is this Star Wars music?”

Bullgrit

Calfgrit4 woke up at 5:30 a.m. (again) and was immediately ready to play. (Calfgrit7 was visiting my mom.) We told him he could play in his room, quietly.

“Oh God, please let him be satisfied for just half an hour so we can sleep a little longer.”

He’d play for five minutes and then come back to our room to tell us something. He’d go back to his room for another five minutes and then come back to tell us something. Nope, we weren’t going to be able to sleep in.

At one point he told us, “My head is cold.”

Cowgrit said sleepily, “Go put on your Santa hat.”

He turned around and headed back to his room, saying, “No, I’ll just put some underwear on my head.”

He did, and I regret not getting a picture of that.

Bullgrit

In a comment here, my brother claimed that I [was apparently so safe and boring that I] had never broken a bone. Well, I’ve broken a foot and damn near broken a couple of ribs.

I broke my left foot casually walking down the stairs at Cowgrit’s mother’s old house. (This was about 12 years ago.) I was trying to read an encyclopedia while walking down, and near the bottom I misstepped and fell. It hurt really bad at the moment of the fall, but I just didn’t consider that I might actually have broken a bone.

I walked on that painful foot for two days before making an appointment with a doctor. When the doctor looked at the x-ray, the break was obvious. I got a very uncool space boot to wear for a few weeks, and after that it was all better.

I “broke” a couple of ribs while snowboarding in Snowshoe, West Virginia. (This was about 6 years ago.) It was my first weekend on a snowboard, and I fell many times. I can say, falling on a snowboard is much worse than falling on snow skis — falling forward on a board is like being punched by the Earth.

This particular time I fell forward, I fell on my arm. I was surprised that I didn’t break my arm, but I definitely did hurt my ribs. I continued boarding for the rest of that day, but my chest hurt with every breath. It wasn’t an overbearing pain, but it was enough that after a few hours, I decided to go to the medical building. I just knew I had at least cracked a rib or two.

The medics checked me for a punctured lung (negative) and poked and prodded me to determine if I was in immediate danger (I wasn’t). They warned me not to board anymore until I could have an x-ray taken at a hospital when I got back home. They said even if I did have a broken rib or two, there was nothing they could do about it. Can’t really put a cast on my chest.

Fortunately we were leaving the next morning anyway, so I didn’t really miss out on much more snow sports. The day after we got back home, I went to the hospital for x-rays. The doctor examined my chest and my x-rays and said the two ribs that hurt were probably only sprained. But, he said, sprained ribs feel the same as broken ribs to the patient, and the treatment is the same: he gave me a sling for my arm.

The sling was really just to keep me from using that side of my chest for a few weeks so the injury could heal. I didn’t have to wear it all the time, but I should wear it as often as I could as a physical reminder to keep that side immobile as much as possible.

Technically, no rib was broken, but when people asked about my sling, I said I had “two busted ribs.” People think “broken” when they hear “busted,” and they can naturally understand that more than what “sprained” actually means. (A truly sprained limb should be immobilized for a while to heal.)

And note: Putting your arm in a sling doesn’t really make injured ribs feel better when just breathing naturally feels like someone is twisting a knife in your side. It’s really hard to not breath for three weeks.

Bullgrit