Tacky, Tacky, Tacky

I bought five bars of evil smelling soap recently. I thought I was buying something similar to the handmade soaps sold at the Farmer’s Market this summer. Instead, it was perfume-laden gunk with colors inspired by Barnum and Bailey. I was in a quandary about what to do with this stuff until I attended a wedding last week.

The handsome, virile man that I married, seeing I was busy the Saturday morning of the wedding offered to pick up a wedding present while he was in town running some of his errands. I jumped at that offer. The wedding invitation helpfully advised that the wedding couple was registered at a store close to a hardware store, so my better-half set off for town in a state of contentment. He came home some time later with a gift, complete with gift bag.

Unsatisfied with the array of towels and dishes that the happy couple picked out, he, being male, settled on set of knives on their list. We have been married for over thirty years, and we would trade a trip to Tahiti for a set of knives that expensive. Since I need this guy’s help with anything that requires brute force, I bit my tongue, filled out a card, and set off for the wedding.

We deposited our gift on the display table, where the table guardian instructed us to take a rolled up piece of paper wrapped with a ribbon. Apparently after opening all those wedding gifts, a few modern brides are too exhausted to indulge in the traditional nicety of acknowledging gifts by thank you notes. So, instead of a thank you note, guests receive a ribbon-wrapped piece of paper. On the paper is a Xeroxed poem that usually starts something like this, “Thank you for your special gift….” What rhymes with tacky?

Not long after the wedding, I bought the soap-from-hell with Christmas gifts in mind. Since I want my family and close friends to like me, I knew Christmas giving was out. I was baffled about whose life I could grace with this splendid endowment. Fortunately, my mate has flashes of brilliance. He said, “We could give it as wedding gifts.” I was about to nay-say the suggestion when I remembered the tacky “thank-you-poem-in-lieu-of-note.” I looked at my husband and said, “We could give a bar of soap to people who give poems as thank you notes!” He responded, “We’ll buy a good gift, but leave it in the car. You can carry the soap in your purse. If we get handed a poem, we’ll give them the soap.” I love it when a plan comes together.