"That what," I say looking around, up, down trying to find out what that was.
"That, under the green card."
I pick up the green card and find a little framed count cross stitch sampler. As I pick it up and start to look at it, I am truly unsure what exactly the appropriate response is. "Nancy?" I asked because this conversation seems so disconnected at this point.
"Nancy B-------, from New York, it is a belated anniversary present. She apologized for it being so late, she had a hard time finding a design with dogs and cats on it. She sent it to us last week." Natalie finally explains.
The pieces fall together. Nancy is Natalie's co-worker and friend from New York. I have meet her a few times, and she is very close to my wife. Nancy, like so many people Natalie works with, feel like they know me fairly well because they are constantly hearing stories about my latest zany antics as perceived by Natalie. I really don't mind, it means my wife loves me. It also means strangers sometimes meet me and find I am not quite the character my wife has portrayed me to be.
"Where do you think we should put it," she asks.
I examine the lovely stitch work and clever animal design with our names in the center. Nancy has made something so thoughtful, and I can't thank her enough for her time and talent. I smile at my beautiful and sanity stealing wife and say, "Somewhere we both can see it." I love my wife, you know I do.