Christmas In July

I promised myself when I started this blog that I wouldn't post stupid stuff. So this post -- which really isn't so bad -- got put off for seven months.

Dear Santa,

I'm supposed to be making a Christmas list. My mother-in-law has asked for one at least twice, and my mom has asked, too. And my sister has complained about the specificity of my lists, while everyone else loves it. But you never demanded or eschewed hyperlinks (honestly, I don't think we really did much with hyperlinks when I was writing you regular letters), and you hold the any-gift-is-possible magical intrigue that our mothers and sisters do not. So I'm writing you instead.

I'm sure you've noticed that grown-up lists are way different from children's lists. Christmas lists were so much easier when they were specific things with reasonable (or at least finite) prices. And you really had some slam dunks:

The Easy Bake Oven was one of those gifts I didn't even know I wanted. I loved that thing to death, force-feeding my family what we very generously called "cakes" made of glorified hot chocolate cooked into a solid. Photo from someone selling their circa-1995 model on Craigslist. Although, doing research right now, sorry Craigslist seller, but I would totally go for the cool new models.

The Magna Doodle and Fisher Price play kitchen were pretty big hits too. Look how proud Momma looks, thinking she has two budding kitchen queens. At least she got one. A quick visit to an old post is all the proof you need that these cooking toys did me NO good. I'm resisting calling myself a hopeless case in the kitchen.

But your biggest hit was, hands down, the Magic Key Mansion. I think it was the only brand I really latched onto, and no other would do. When I think about playing in my room as a kid, I think about (a) my water babies and (b) the Magic Key Mansion.

My mom gave mine to Goodwill when I was in college. I cried. No lie.

Now, though, my list is definitely unreasonable and practically impossible to fulfill. So here it is:

A MED SCHOOL ACCEPTANCE LETTER FOR MY HUSBAND: He finally figured out what he wanted to do with his life, and I don't want med school administrators to kill it for him. He needs a win. Since college, he's worked in retail, worked in customer service, gotten married, and now, he's in nursing school and working part-time. Med school would be so great for him.

A BETTER-MANNERED CAT (preferably better manners in my cat because I do love him): No furniture-scratching, no biting, no destroying things to get attention.

THE ABILITY TO WARP TIME: Yeah, I'm serious. I want to expand hours that I'm sleeping and condense hours that I'm in doctor's office waiting rooms. I also want to stop time while I speed on down the interstate when I'm running late for work.

THE NEXT FIVE YEARS OF MY LIFE PLANNED OUT: Will we go to med school? Will I go to grad school? Will we have children? Ever? Not a clue.

MY BODY FROM 2002 ... But I don't really want to work for it. See what you can do about that, Santa.

ENDLESS SUPPLIES OF ENERGY for things like cooking and cleaning and exercising. Or, better yet...

A SLEEP-TILL-I-WAKE-UP DAY without the accompanying guilt for not being productive.

QUARTERLY VACATIONS like we had in school. I swear it's better for mental health.

... And now I'll go make the actually-a-possibility list.

 My husband did not get into med school, but he did finish nursing school. The cat is slightly better behaved. No luck on quarterly vacations, 2002 body, or time warping. I never made a real Christmas list, but it was a lovely day.