The thought that counts

Yesterday we celebrated my dad and pappy's birthday. We ate spaghetti and cake with the whipped icing, as opposed to that super sugurary kind, which make it at least bearable. I told my dad I would get him absolutely anything he wanted on ebay. And guess what he chose? A ring. I didn't want to give him a ring. He'll just get tired of it after a month. I don't even think I would pick jewlry, if I could pick from anything. Then again after a while you feel like there is nothing that you could possibly want after a while. How many tools can you have if you are a dad or earrings and flowers if you're a mom? People refer to the cliche, its the thought that counts. But not really. So what if you say, awwww, that's nice, that took effort. You don't want to be the one that is labeled the crappy gift giver. But really, how is it possible to be continually thinking of new stuff to get? It becomes stressful and then you realize, man, I can't afford giving presents. I liked it better when my mom just writes my name on whatever. AND then, the worst is when you are really excited about something and expect joy on their faces when they open it, but instead you get a confused look, what is it? CRUSH. stomp. stomp. All that "thought that counts" down the drain.