Steve and I were never big gift givers. For one thing, we were almost always in the middle of some giant project that was sucking our time and extra finances. For another thing, both of us were pretty particular about our “big” purchases.

For Steve, they were almost always something related to hunting, or an outdoor adventure, that had to be very specific and exactly the thing he needed. Steve would spend months, or even, in the case of our dogs, years, researching and finding the exact thing that he needed to do whatever job he had in mind. Whether it was a gun, a scope, some sort of technology, whatever it was, the chances of me wandering through Cabela’s and finding it in time for Christmas were slim to none.

For me, most of my investment type purchases were for the house, and although I wasn’t quite as meticulous as Steve, I spent a fair amount of time researching and reviewing things like vacuum cleaners, stand mixers, and washing machines before we bought them. I’ve never been much into jewelry, perfume or any of the other typical girlie type presents; in fact, over the years some people have even suggested that I’m hard to shop for.

Since we’ve had the kids, I’ve also definitely veered more toward the giving of experiences rather than things.

Fairly early on, Steve and I took the approach of “if you want something nice, buy it for yourself and consider it my gift” or else “the new floor in all of the bedrooms is our gift to each other.” Now, of course, those rare items that we did gift each other have become all the more precious to me. I almost lost my mind back in January when one of a pair of socks that he’d given me for Christmas disappeared in the wash.

Spending so much time outdoors in all kinds of weather, Steve was always on the hunt for the perfect sock that would keep his feet warm and dry and wear well. Every brand was the best brand until he invariably poked a hole in one of them or the elastic stretched too quickly. Then the hunt would start again. At any rate, he had insisted on buying me a pair of his latest favorites, even though I rarely spent any time I didn’t have to outside in winter.

On Christmas morning, the kids thought it was hilarious that “Santa” had left stockings in my stocking. The socks also had the most random design on them: a bunny rabbit blowing a bubble. Quite frankly, they were the most ridiculous and expensive pair of socks I’d ever owned. After Jan. 8, I couldn’t take them off. So, when one of them went missing, I tore apart the entire laundry room, and was ready to start dismantling the dryer, sure it had eaten my treasured sock.

Finally, I just gave up. I was sure that the universe was paying me back for the fun I had poked at the stupid socks before. A few weeks later, I was cleaning around the staircase, lo and behold, my rabbit sock magically appeared. Whether one of the dogs thieved it and hid it, or it just fell out of the laundry basket, I will never know, but now my rabbit socks are together again and when they are washed, they go into the delicates bag together and stay together until they’re dried, folded and put away.

As I was finally cleaning out our old house, I came across another long-lost present. It was the first, and last, birthday present Steve ever gave me. We hadn’t been going out very long when we came to my birthday. It was a big one: 30. Although we knew by then that we were meant to be, it was still too soon to get engaged. We also hadn’t quite established our gift giving plan.

Quite honestly, I’ve never been a big fan of celebrating birthdays, and I was worried that Steve would either overdo it and set the precedent for what I would have to do for his birthday a month later, or he would underdo it and although I wouldn’t want to be, I would be a tiny bit disappointed.

He did make plans to go out to a very nice restaurant, and that was more than enough for me. So, I was very surprised when I got to his house and there was a big box waiting for me, gift-wrapped in true Steve fashion, in a giant garbage bag.

Inside was a red, vintage-style blender that I had had my eye on for months. Every time we made a trip to Lowe’s for one of his projects, I detoured down the appliance aisle to check it out. I didn’t even really use a blender, I just liked the look of that blender, and I could envision the rest of my kitchen, outfitted with similar cheery red appliances. I was so overwhelmed that he’d paid attention to my browsing, and we spent the next several years and my bridal registry outfitting the rest of our kitchen to match that blender. Most of my friends were surprised when I departed from my usual color schemes of neutral and dark colors. “Why red?” they’d asked. “I don’t know, it just makes me happy,” was all I could answer.

A few years ago, I broke the coupling on it, and always meant to get around to fixing it, and never did. Eventually, I tucked it away in a cabinet out of sight. When I found it a few weeks ago, I shed a good many tears over it, and vowed that I would finally fix it. Thanks to the internet and a few YouTube videos, I was able to track down the part, and yes, I fixed it. My red blender is back on the counter where it belongs, and getting used heavily by the smoothie makers in our house.

Of course, this act of finding, fixing and restoring, is what I only wish I could do with Steve. And, of course, these are nothing compared to the intangible gifts he gave me over the years which will be with me forever, and can never be broken or lost.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.