December 20, 2002
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 by then.

    (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 2003. Grrrrrrr.



  • Groovy bike shoes.

    And 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 Size-8-on-the-left-Size-9-1/2-Extra-Extra-Wide-on-the-right feet? 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 grooviness.

    As long as it doesn't hurt, I mean.



  • I'd rather have a lump of coal than a bottle of "Glow."

    Could someone please make Jennifer Lopez go away now?



  • 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 him it.



  • 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 shows.

    Otherwise I may have to go back to reading Internet journals.



  • Tracking devices implanted in all three of The Tots.

    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.

    Santa 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.

    Until the 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?

    What I 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.

    Eventually of 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!





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see you in a couple of days, mom & jaymes!