So many of the reviews and editorials in this category have been so selfless, loving, sympathetic, touching, and moving to me. It’s nice to see the real writers come out on some of these editorial categories instead of overflowing heaps of consumerism.
Unfortunately, mine’s not. I’m emotionally needy, I’m greedy, I’m wishful, and I ain’t afraid to say so. I just want everything the way that I want it, just like Meg Ryan in’When Harry Met Sally.’(if there were a category for the ten things that I most wanted to receive as gifts, that would be item number ten)
I earn moderate income throughout the year, I give myself a tiny perk every few months or so to keep from saying dumb things to myself like’When can I finally do something for MYSELF?’ I help my husband pay for the mortgage and utilities on his house. I make sure my children have good food to eat and fresh clothes to wear. I tithe to my church, support local fundraisers, buy tickets, coupon books, candy bars, and Girl Scout cookies whenever kids come knocking on my door. I donate to online charities when I can afford it, just like a whole slew of other people that just want to do their incremental(but not meaningless) part to help someone else.
I wish for selfless things all the time, but every now and then I like to let my mind drift to things that are material and therefore, not permanent. I want World Peace as much as the next person, but heck, I also want a new pair of durable loafers that are businesslike enough to wear to work.
I want the whole enchilada. Here are the five main ingredients of the enchilada:
A stronger relationship with my Maker: I ask God to forgive me my sins and increase my faith all the time, and I usually ask him that first. The requests to bless my family and friends usually follow that, so I will admit that gift wish is totally selfish. I ask for anointed words everyday, for action AFTER thought and consideration on my part, and to not do anything today that I will regret tomorrow. Goodness knows my yesterdays have been pretty regret-worthy.
That pair of loafers: I hate shopping for shoes. I hate the sales help that smirk at me when I ask for a pair of sandals in a size ten, I hate the weird carpeting that makes me trip when I am wearing my old shoes, I hate the low-to-the-floor mirrors that don’t give me a good enough glance at how the gunboats look on my feet. I would love it if someone else would do the shoe shopping for me.
Gift certificates: A gift certificate for a store like Barnes and Noble, Starbucks, or Hancock Fabrics is ideal. A gift certificate to any one of these stores means a story that I can lose myself in, a hot cup of tea that I can relax over, or a outfit that I otherwise allow myself the time to make. These are those little “do something for myself” indulgences that I mentioned earlier.
A Mister and Missus Date: A night out with my husband without the kids to see a movie that I have actually been waiting for would be immeasurably decadent. A meal that I don’t have to rush through and choke down, a couple of hours of dancing in a club with some people actually over thirty years of age that don’t rush out to buy the latest Britney Spears CD. Some time to appreciate that I have a husband that still turns heads, and that thinks I do too after having two kids.
A job that I can look forward to leaving the house for: The only thing worth waking up for most mornings is my kids. I want to earn a living doing something more interesting than “tracking production, providing customer service, and assuring quality.” I want something more creative than printing file labels on bigger stickers so I can mark the file number AND the subject. I want a job that doesn’t make me wonder just how replaceable I am whenever I see a staffing request posted on the bulletin board, and then wonder why the last person left. I miss being able to scrawl freeform verse on my notebooks, I miss being covered in turpentine and gesso, I miss the nicks in my thumb from using the mat cutter to create a beveled edge. When people tell me “Thanks, you’re a lifesaver, ” I would love to know whose life I saved! I would love to work fewer hours, have more leeway, and more flexibility. Instead of just flooding my cubicle with my kids’ pictures, I would love to make more time to see them during daylight hours. I want a job where my supervisor isn’t more nervous about her job security than I am about mine.
Santa wouldn’t let me tell him a list like that!