It was my first Christmas after getting married, and I was in the kitchen at my grandma's house. I was there with all the women in our family for our then-traditional cookie-baking party. My sisters were elsewhere, but I was settled in with my mom and my aunt... I suppose it was my first time being part of the group as a "grown-up."
And... as women do, the conversation eventually turned to sex. (So... if your kids are reading over your shoulder, you may want to get them to stop that. And if my children are reading, go clean your room.)
I wasn't terribly experienced in this area going into marriage, so... when they asked how things were going, I had a question to ask.
"Things are going fine... but... there's one thing I can't quite figure out," I began. "Is there some trick to the wet spot? Am I just stuck with it forever?"
Gales of laughter floated out of the kitchen, as I recall.
There was much talking, much laughter, much helpful advice... but I've forgotten most of that by now.
A week or so later, I had mostly forgotten that we'd had this conversation. On Christmas morning, we all congregated again in the living room of Grandma's house. Actually, as I write this, I realize that my grandma had been gone for several years by this point, and my dad and my other aunt were living there. But... it will always be Grandma's house to me.
We were sitting around opening presents and I got to a small box from my aunt. I opened it, and it was a little velvet box... the kind you'd get a ring in from the jewelry store. I cracked it, and was a little puzzled by what was inside.
I looked quizzically at my aunt and asked, "What... is this FOR?"
She replied, "Do you remember our conversation from the other day?"
Comprehension dawned and I just about fell over laughing. My mom raised her eyebrow at me, and I turned the box so she could see it. She laughed too.
What was inside?
A wine cork.
Photo Credit: Jenn Durfey