Éireann go Brách

Before continuing with my entry, I should apologize for the recent paucity of updates. Over the last two weeks I have been forced to frantically assemble a final report for a grant so that it could be submitted to the federal granting agency by our April 1st deadline. I’ve spent hours carefully crafting an evaluation strategy, devising statistical analyses that elegantly balance explanatory power with simplicity, and writing all of this in a final report whose prose I like to think is reminiscent of Gore Vidal – conversational yet informative. Unfortunately, no one will ever read it. Some bureaucrat will check to make sure it has been submitted, note that it was received, and immediately put it in a file that will next be opened by archeologists long after the collapse of our civilization. (Future Archeologist: this society seemed to pray to a god named “ANOVA.” No new knowledge could be obtained unless ANOVA(1) deemed it significant.) Such is my life.

Normally pissing away two weeks into the black hole of research would annoy me to no end, but not today. Today I am too excited by my upcoming trip to Ireland to be upset.

The trip to Ireland was born out of desperation last December. My lovely wife informed me that she wanted me to get her something other than jewelry for Christmas. I was shocked and dismayed by her request. Personally, I thought we had a good gift routine down. Megan and I would agree on some dollar amount we would each spend on one another for Christmas. Then she would buy me some piece of electronics/kitchen accessory/assortment of guy stuff and I would buy her some piece of jewelry. We would both spend about twice what we had agreed upon because getting the perfect gift for the one that we loved was more important than groceries or rent or other trivialities. We’d both be taken aback by our partner’s generosity and she usually cried. It all seemed to work fine to me.

Not this year. This year had to be different. With jewelry off the table, I was a bit lost. My decade of experience with women had turned me into a relatively good jewelry buyer. I was familiar with the norms of jewelry shopping. I could enter a jeweler’s place of business and conduct myself in a manner that was consistent with his or her expectations of a customer. I knew what questions to ask (is that a created emerald?), what questions were stupid (is it waterproof?), and how to politely say that I couldn’t afford that piece if I sold all of my worldly possessions including a kidney and part of my liver (I think she would prefer something a little more understated). I had no such relevant experience with the other things my wife likes. How do you buy a purse? What makes one purse better than another? Are big purses cool because they cost more or lame because they are mostly used by rich old ladies as shoulder-mounted doghouses for their mini schnauzers? Are they waterproof? Is waterproofing even a valid concern?

After some awkward encounters with salespersons unlucky enough to approach me in stores, I realized that I was not going to be able to manage this social situation by myself. Only further humiliation and befuddlement on the part of the sales community could possibly result from continuing my efforts. I had two options: bring in reinforcements or confine my search to items with which I had some familiarity. I chose the latter largely because I did not know of any purse, perfume, or makeup experts. This choice meant my wife’s gift had to relate to something I was good at doing/evaluating. Since I am not good at doing much of anything, my choices were limited. I could get her therapy, but I thought this an imprudent gift. I could buy her some sort of cooking thing, but I would be the one who ended up using it anyway. I am really adroit at finding coffee in unfamiliar neighborhoods, but I didn’t know how to convert this ability into a gift. Most of my other talents, like writing papers in unreasonably short periods of time and gambling, only benefit me. The only talent I had left was travel. I am, all things considered, a relatively good traveler and a grasped this idea like a drowning man clinging to driftwood.

Still we had the issue of the dollar amount. While it was generally considered acceptable to spend up to 200% of our agreed upon maximum, travel to most places my wife would want to go would far exceed this total. While the number one destination would have almost certainly been Madagascar, even a budget trip to Madagascar would have required approximately 4000% of our agreed upon maximum. Likewise, I would have liked to buy a trip to Tahiti, but this would have amounted to approximately 2000% of our agreed upon total. After a great deal of research I came upon two possible trips. Trip one was to Ecuador and would have required 300% of our budget for fabulously luxurious trip (Ecuador is very cheap). Trip two was to Ireland and would have required about 350% of our budget for a modest trip.

I eventually decided on the second trip since I was afraid Ecuador might be a bit rustic for my honey. When I gave it to her, she got confused and then cried so I guess it was a success. We are leaving two weeks from today and I can’t wait to get there. I just hope next year I can buy her jewelry again; otherwise Ecuador, here we come.


1. Yes, I know that a joke about statistics is incredibly lame. Fuck off. (2)
2. Yes, I know footnoting a joke is even lamer. Fuck off again.