It’s snowing! It’s Christmas! Why are those two occurrences married in my mind? Probably all those Ohio Christmases, followed by all those Chicago winters. I must’ve partially blocked the Texas “winters” – the one-day sleetfests during which I attempted to navigate my poor little hydroplaning convertible through panicked, Costco-bound traffic – because I can’t dredge up any sentimental attachment to them like I can the others.
The best thing about snow is that smell that precedes a good snowfall. If anticipation had a scent, it would be that gritty, frozen dirt-y smell that comes before snow (never during snow – only before.) The smell of pre-snow defies the laws of the senses – you can smell something you should only be able to feel, and that’s trippy… in the best way.
So now that the weather has cemented in my mind the fact that* it is actually, really, honest-to-goodness Christmas, I suppose I should make my list. I usually like making lists (not necessarily Christmas-related; just list lists), but this is a tough one. I don’t need anything, really, and most of the stuff I want isn’t tangible, and thus could never include fun wrapping and pretty bows. Bah humbug. What good’s a Christmas list if it doesn’t involve the potential for a trip to GIFT WRAP WONDERLAND? We’ll see, I guess, because here it is. This year for Christmas, I want:
1. To find a happy medium between freezing and blistering in my shower
2. To develop a taste for good wine**
3. To spend a month at the Cabin with a typewriter *** and some blank canvas and my acrylics and a bottle of Mod Podge and no TV or VCR or DVD or cell phone or internet(s) or relatives
4. For all the Dallas drivers to suddenly realize that those little flicky bars on the sides of their steering wheels are magically connected to their turn signals
5. To do something perfectly the first time around
6. To have a real Chicago-after-first-snow-style snowball fight
7. For VH1 to call and offer me that commentator spot on the “I Love the ‘90s” sequel (they live for that witty, no-name journalist shtick, right?)
8. A Volvo SUV. (I guess that could potentially involve some kind of awesome bow, but that’s not why I want one.) There’s something about Volvos I associate with stability (emotional and financial). Plus, I would finally feel safe driving through the throngs of Park Cities moms who think they’ve earned (or at least married into) the right-of-way. And I could trick and SUV all out with those big yellow-ribbon support our troops magnets… Or not. You know… whatever.
9. To get my crafty streak back. I used to be a kind of white trash Martha Stewart, but I don’t get the same thrill from a hot glue gun that I used to. Don’t get me wrong: hot glue is still the sexiest of all adhesives (and I’ve tried them all.) I think we’re just getting to a more comfortable place in our relationship.
10. To wake up some morning with something far more profound and eloquent to write about than craft supplies and my need for a sense of emotional permanence buttressed by a large automobile.****
* Sorry, Strunk & White; sometimes I just have to use “the fact that.” I have to!
** No, Robyn, Boone’s Farm does not count. Although I will say, the satisfying “chhhhssssh” of the twist-off cap will always be a classic in my mind.
*** I’m pretty sure I’d get sick of a typewriter after about, oh, say, one mistake. But it’s romantic and writerly nonetheless, and it’s my wish list, so I’m leaving it.
**** Of course, a Christmas list isn't legit without a bottom line, so here's mine: All I want for Christmas is you. Bi-otch.