It’s that time of year again; the time when the Ronco and Chia Pet ads start airing on t.v., when drivers get even less courteous than usual, when the mailbox is stuffed to bursting with catalogs, and when everyone starts asking everyone else, “what do you want for Christmas?“
My in-laws started asking this question last weekend. My husband borrowed a tool from his father – a reciprocating saw – that he needed (or thought he might need) as he and Auntie put the shed together, and Mother Chili called to ask me whether she should buy Mr. Chili his own. “No, Mom; he’s borrowing Dad’s because this is the only time he’s going to use the thing. If he thought he’d need it more often, he’d have bought one already.” I managed to put her off with Mr. Chili’s request for new jeans, and he’s promised me that he’ll get some specific requests to me to pass along to his mother (she likes model numbers; trust me, it’s better that way).
I’ve already asked Auntie what I can get for her and The Girl, my daughters have been busy making lists, and Mr. Chili popped the question to me this evening. My answer was that I really, really want to go to the TwoBlueDays‘ in Florida during the February break (I KNOW I’m going to want to get the hell out of Dodge come February; it’s been my pattern for years now) but, beyond that, I find myself with no major material desires this year. I’ve got my Amazon list, certainly, but there’s nothing burning a hole in my psyche; I have everything that I need and damned near everything I want. It makes for a very nice life, but it also makes me a tough target for holiday shopping.
What do YOU want for Christmas?