The other day my husband asked for, like, the fifth time, “What do you want for Christmas? Please, give me some gift suggestions!” I’m still scratching my head, because, honestly, I have everything I want. Retail madness – God, yes, I was guilty of it in the past. I had every catalog known to mankind, most of them with Post-its marking the pages with my wishlist items. But here’s the thing: I wasn’t as content as I am now. I used things to fill the emptiness at the core of my seemingly full life. I cringe now to think of all the clothes in my closets and knick-nacks cluttering every surface in my home. I’ve since adopted a more Zen approach: Less is more.
Also, let’s face it: My wish list items these days are mostly unobtainable. They are:
#1 Juliana Margulies’ wardrobe in “The Good Wife.” ( I would kill for the jackets alone). And don’t get me started on Kalinda’s wardrobe – first, I’d need the body to go with it.
#2 The green dress, skirt lined in plaid, worn by Ann Miller in the Natural History Museum dance sequence in “On the Town.” I loved it as a child and still dream about that dress to this day.
#3 An apron with sleeves. I had one once, years ago. The sleeves were 3/4 length with elastic, so if you were wearing a long-sleeved blouse, you could push the sleeves underneath. Fantastic – but it wore out long ago and I haven’t found another one since.
#4 A clutch handbag that holds everything. Doesn’t exist, but a girl can dream.
#5 A masseuse in a bottle. Forget the genie – I’d like a nice, strapping Swede who pops out to ease my sore muscles at the end of a stressful day. Ahhhh…
One gift I received this year that was priceless: My friend, Jan, a world-renowned cellist, let me hold his Strad. Now I can die happy, having held an Oscar and stroked a Stradivarius.
Oh, yes, and a wonderful lady, a reader of my novels, in North Carolina sends me a big box of shelled pecans each year, from her pecan trees. Ann Debman also runs a funeral home, and one year when the box arrived, with the name of the funeral home clearly visible on the box, the doorman gave me a sympathetic look – he no doubt mistook it for ashes of a loved one. The very same doorman who happily ate the cookies made from those pecans. Bless you, Ann, for the gift the keeps on giving.
I wish you all the happiest of holidays and hope you get everything you want and need.
