A Wish List

Behold!
A FO!
My silly teacozy hat. A silly hat for a very silly girl....


Dear Santa, I really have a lot to ask of you this year. Since CVS is already engorged with red and green wrapped candies, tinsel, and horrendous singing stuffed snowmen I thought of bringing my list early to you. So here goes:

1) Here’s a biggie: bring my youngest brother home, healthy, victorious and proud of the service he has done for his country. And if the democrats can accomplish this before you do, kudos to them. (Even better if they do it humbly.…)
2) An umbrella-my favorite umbrella, sad to say, has shit the bed. It was so darn cute too, black with little martini glasses.
3) Gift certificates to my favorite clothing stores. After feeling like a fuzzy ripe grape for nine months, some shnazzy new duds would give me the confidence I need.
4) The ability to tell my husband that a TV of gigantic proportions is not going to appear in our imminent future. Maybe never.
5) New feet. It appears that the extra weight I’m carrying has just plain worn out my old feet. If you could, Santa, bring me a pair of bouncy, springy new feet. With prettier toes than my last set, if possible.
6) That foxy brown velvety Michael Kors shoulder bag I saw in Lord & Taylor at lunch today. Even the brown paisley (yes even in dreaded paisley) one will do.
7) Music. I love music. I want to hear it throughout the house. I want my babbakins to grow up familiar with Chopin, Mussorgsky, and such just like I did.
8) Peace on earth? Screw that. There will never be peace on earth, and if there could be, who would want it anyway. If life was always beautiful and kind, and suffering didn’t exist we would thrive, overpopulate, and consume everything in sight. So it would be, say, 50 years of peace at the price of total and immediate world devastation. So call me selfish, but to hell with wishing for world peace. I think the only purity in this world that exists anyways is in the balance and cruelty of nature.
9) A sling to hold up my enormous baby bump for the last month of pregnancy.
10) Continued health, comfort and happiness for my family and friends, yadda yadda yadda. And for my enemies, each a fridge full of rotten eggs. With 800 pounds of cole slaw. Just because they wouldn’t know what to do with all that slaw. That would get ‘em good.
11) For that nasty girl that spread rumors about me at work, dragged me through the torment of her pathetic dating sagas, made fun of my laugh, tried to copy my clothing, announced to people that I was throwing her a surprise 30th birthday party before I even knew I was throwing it, and took a personal stab at a good friend of mine, even MORE cole slaw. Hah!
12) A half pound of cole slaw, light on the cream. Yum.
13) A healthy little boy.