Surprise, surprise, surprise.

I officially surrender.
It is virtually impossible to surprise the Ump. Some of you probably remember my failed attempt for a surprise 50th birthday party last year. Months of carefully planning and misdirection ended on a solo trip over to Luray to umpire a game when all the disparate pieces fell together for him.
For his 51st birthday there would be no surprise party, but Olivia (O) and Webb (W) came up for the weekend and his parents planned to join us on Sunday for a nice birthday meal.
He, of course, asked for nothing. I take that back. He wanted a new $15 spray bottle so he could kill weeds. Seriously.
I am my mother’s daughter when it comes to birthdays. In my family, we celebrated your birthday whether you wanted a celebration or not. My Dad is more like the Ump. He’ll take a good meal, but he’s not into all the fuss and festivities. In nearly 50 years with my mother, Dad has learned to tolerate the rituals and rewards of a birthday party – something I hope the Ump picks up on that way before we hit the 50th anniversary (which would make me 90 and him 95 and not too likely to be in any shape for real surprises.)
I bought his plastic spray thingy, but just could not accept that as his only birthday present.
Saturday morning arrived and I still had not decided what to do. Then it came to me. Gas grill!
We’ve been talking about getting one, but just couldn’t seem to make the commitment.
I drove over to Lowe’s and spent about an hour going over all the options with the sales guy who (as a gas griller himself) helped me define the Ump’s grilling personality.
Honestly, I did not care much about the details. One non-negotiable item was the grill must come pre-assembled.
I recently alluded to a “rest-of-the-story” event that involved a seven-foot-tall set of bookshelves that we assembled. We have had bigger skirmishes when doing household chores together, but there definitely were a few tense moments as we put together a shelf that I bought for our office/den/gunroom/exercise room. I just can’t make up my mind what to call it. In my defense, I was looking more at the price and less at the dimensions. I was thinking that it was closer to four feet tall. In all fairness, the packaging should have been in feet instead of inches. I mean, 84 inches doesn’t sound that tall, does it?
So. Pre-assembled was the recipe to success for this little birthday surprise.
The problem is that I have changed vehicles and there was no way an assembled gas grill with side burner was going in the Dodge Charger. Lowe’s offered to deliver, but it would cost $65 to go from Lowe’s to Court Street. I would never be able to justify that to the Ump.
This is where the story becomes complicated.
I bought and paid for the grill and told the guy I would be back to pick it up later.
It was 11 a.m. The Ump was going to leave after noon to go to a softball game in Harrisonburg. O and W and I were going to drive down to Harrisonburg later so we could watch him play and then we were all going out to The Outback for dinner.
In the meantime, I had a hair appointment at 1 p.m. that I simply could not miss.
So, I recruited O and W. Once the Ump left, they were to take his truck (his umpire partner picked him up for the game) and retrieve the grill while I was in Strasburg getting my hair cut.
On this Saturday, of course, there was a prom at Handley and one other semi-local school and bunches of girls were in the shop for up-dos. So I ended up getting out of there just in time to run home and pack O and W into the car and head to Harrisonburg.
As we were getting ready to leave, O says “Was the grill supposed to be assembled.”
If my life was being drawn by a cartoonist, my head would have swiveled around and my eyes would have popped out. Then my whole head would have exploded when she said they gave her a grill-in-a-box.
I got on the telephone, waded through the endless voice messages until I finally got a representative and the proceeded to explain the problem. Eventually, I got on the phone with the sales rep who assured me that if I brought the box back, we could get the assembled grill.
But how would I get the box back to the store? We had to go to Harrisonburg.
Danny!
There are probably days when Danny regrets living next door to me. I do not hesitate to beg for help if the Ump is not around. Danny is a very handy person. On this particular Saturday, he was innocently polishing his truck when I camp huffing and puffing up to him after leaping from my yard to his.
I explained the situation and told him the keys were in the Ump’s truck and to just take that to retrieve the grill. We would be back much later.
We missed the ballgame (it was unusually short), but we did have a good time in Harrisonburg and a nice dinner. O and I even managed to talk the Ump into doing some shopping. On the drive home, I silently congratulated myself on pulling off what looked to be an impossible feat.
As we pulled into the driveway, I there was one small thing I forgot to tell Danny. The grill was supposed to be a surprise.
The first thing the Ump said as we rolled down the driveway was “Who moved the truck?”
The truck was backed into the carport and you could see that the back window on the topper was open. “What’s the top doing open?”
I struggled to find a lie that would somehow cover it all, but nothing came to me.
Then the final straw when the Ump said: “What’s that propane tank doing on the carport?”
In the cartoon of my life Cartoon Cindy would have burst through the roof of the car, shot into the sky and exploded in a large, loud pyrotechnic display that would have culminated in my ashes raining down from the heavens and setting his HUA hat on fire. (Harrisonburg Umpire Association).
I am not giving up on surprise. However, I think I will take a short break and try again later. Like when he’s 60.