All I Want For Christmas
miles to go: 38.67 [YTD: 1,963.33]
All I Want For Christmas 2002
~ By Secra ~
- I want to NOT be sick next week.
I know. I should probably be starting off my
annual holiday wish list with a request for something selfless and
noble and bigger than myself ... like peace on earth, or a stabilized
global economy, or an end to the problem of world hunger. And I do wish
for all of those things. I honestly do. But right off the bat I'm
wishing for something decidedly more selfish: to not
be sick when David and I go to TicTac next week. Traveling is stressful
enough as it is. So are the holidays. So is spending time with family.
Lumping all three of them together -- traveling, holiday, family -- is
like the OLYMPIC TRIATHALON of stress. Toss a
phlegm-intensive upper respiratory malfunction into the mix, and you're
just asking for meltdown. (And I can't afford a meltdown right now, any more than I can afford anything else about this trip.)
So my #1 wish this year is that the recent strain of Creeping Crud
making the rounds at work (not to mention the other side of the bed)
bypasses me completely until at least January 3rd. That's the day I'm
due back in the office, following my two-week holiday 'vacation' ...
and I figure I'll be more than ready for a little sanctioned meltdown
(I've already bought the Alka Seltzer Plus. I'll
work out the sick-leave issues later.)
- I want to finish the 2,002 in 2002.
Preferably BEFORE the start of
- Groovy bike shoes.
while we're on the subject of bike-riding ...
is it OK if I ask Santa to custom-order me a special pair of bike shoes
for next year? Bike shoes that aren't too ugly, aren't too scary
(cleats are OK: combination locks are out of the question), don't cost
more than your average college education and will actually FIT
my knobby, bunion-twisted, mismatched
Nothing says "rookie" on the bike trail like a pair of
cheap Payless athletic shoes: I'm ready to move on to the next level of
As long as it doesn't hurt, I
- I'd rather have a lump of coal than a
bottle of "Glow."
Could someone please make Jennifer Lopez go away
- One perfect pillow.
I used to believe that pillows -- like boyfriends
-- were nicer when you had more than one going on at once. My
philosophy was "If two is good, five is better." When one went flat and
uncooperative on you, you simply dumped it onto the floor
and moved on to the next one in the pile. Now, though, I'm beginning to
realize that a mountain of thin, lumpy K-Mart specials simply cannot
compare to one solid, well-made Siberian White Goose Down 312 Thread
Count. It stays cool even when you're running hot ... it knows the
contours of your body better than *you* do ... it doesn't care how hard
you squeeze it or what sort of ridiculous pillowcase you make it wear
or what your breath smells like in the morning ... and after a while,
frankly, you wonder how you ever slept without
- A better job for David in 2003.
We took care of my Job-From-Hades situation last
year: now it's my husband's turn. Ideally, I would like him to find a
job with better pay, shorter hours, complete medical/dental/vision
coverage, a geriatric admin staff and a four-minute commute. But I'll
settle for any job that doesn't have him grinding his teeth into little
pointy stubs in his sleep every night.
- I want "Survivor: Amazon" to be more
interesting than "Survivor: Thailand" turned out to be.
I don't know who or what is to blame here, exactly
-- the stale writing? the creepy unsympathetic characters? that tired
feeling that you've seen it all/heard it all/discussed it all over the
water cooler once (or twice, or three times) before? -- but "Survivor:
Thailand" was a major comafest, right from Day One. (Of course the
same thing could be said for *FOOTNOTES* this past
year. But that's another story for another day.) I'm hoping that
"Amazon" helps restore my faith in tacky manipulative pseudo-reality TV
Otherwise I may have to go back to reading Internet journals.
- Tracking devices implanted in all three of
I figure that if I disguise the devices as tongue
studs or belly-button rings, they'll never even question it.
- The Petite Princess Fantasy Family.
I loved my Petite Princess Fantasy Dollhouse.
left it for me under the tree, the Christmas I was nine years old, and
it instantly became one of my all-time favorite playthings.
"Available only at Sears," the dollhouse listed for $9.99 in the 1966
Sears-Roebuck Wish Book. It came with four complete rooms of furniture,
including a dresser and stool, bed, lyre table and lamp, piano and
bench, treasure trove cabinet, guest chairs, occasional chair with
ottoman, sofa, tier table and lamp and an occasional table set. I
later acquired the grandfather clock, the boudoir chaise
lounge/matching folding screen and the patio furniture set.
Petite Princess Fantasy Dollhouse came along, my dolls had been forced
to make do with cardboard shoeboxes. So this was definitely trading up.
My best friend Anita and I glued little squares of fabric to the fake
plastic windows, and we carpeted the upstairs bedroom by cutting up an
old chenille bathrobe. I even planted a tiny flowerpot "garden" on the
patio, next to the barbecue grill.
The only thing The Petite Princess Fantasy
Dollhouse was missing, basically, were permanent occupants.
There was a constant parade of Pee Wees and Liddle
Kiddles and Troll dolls, trooping in and out of the Petite Princess
Fantasy Dollhouse -- I was never a Barbie sort of girl, and these were
the tiniest dolls in my collection -- but they never really seemed to
*fit.* And that bothered me, because what good is having a beautiful
home with all of these luxurious furnishings and features and amenities
if you don't have a family to fill it with?
wanted was The Petite Princess Fantasy Family: sturdy reliable-looking
Dad, Mom in her flowered housedress, smart attractive pigtailed older
sister, annoying extraneous baby brother ... all of them made out of
some sort of twisty/bendy/rubbery stuff, all of them scaled to fit the
dollhouse perfectly. (I planned to take a felt pen and color
the older sister's pigtails a darker color, so they would look more
like mine ... I did that to all of my blonde dolls ... but other than
that, the family was exactly what I wanted.) I'm sure I probably
badgered Santa and Grandma with equal relentlessness, for the next
couple of years, but for whatever reason The Petite Princess Fantasy
Family never materialized beneath my Christmas tree.
course I outgrew dolls and dollhouses altogether. I sold my Petite
Princess Fantasy Dollhouse for five bucks at a garage sale, the summer
I was nineteen, along with all of the furnishings and most of my
Liddle Kiddle collection. But I never forgot how much that dollhouse
had meant to me.
And I never got over wanting that perfect family.
And that's pretty much my wish list for this year.
Of course I'm also wishing for peace on earth, a
stabilized global economy and an end to the problem of world hunger.
But you knew that already.
Have a great holiday season, everybody! I'll be
back when we get home from TicTac (along with a full report on
Christmas With My Two Husbands). Until then, all the joy of the season
to you and yours!