Dear Santa...

Dear Santa:

I know that you haven't heard from me in oh, let's say 35 years or so, and I guess that is a pretty long time to lose touch.  How is Mrs. Claus and how are the reindeer?  If I remember correctly, that is how I used to open my yearly missives. Yeah, I know I probably didn't use words like missives then, nor was I likely to spell words like reindeer correctly (and, in the mis-directed spirit of confession I have to admit that I have actually eaten reindeer since then...in Norway...it would have been culturally rude for me not to) but, as someone once said, that is neither here nor there...

Now then, I've gotten caught up in the whole Great-Recession-Simple-Living-Deprivation scene so I haven't actually allowed myself to want or desire stuff for the past several years.  After all, I have plenty; other people have less and there is so much judgment going down about greed and consumerism, I feel guilty craving a bag of potato chips (shame!) This year, however, I am giving into my rumblings of want; there are a few things I would really, seriously dig:

• A big, new waffle iron--not one of those piddly, makes one waffle at a time modern jobs, but one that makes six or eight golden waffles with one snap of the lid over a poured glob of batter.  They are hard to find, but maybe you have a sturdy old one laying around the North Pole somewhere?
• A new flour sifter. Enough said.
• The latest Red Hot Chili Peppers album I'm With You--yeah, I know I'm old, but they are as old as I am.  I really groove on that song The Adventures of Rain Dance Maggie and I still like to buy and own entire albums; I'm old-school that way. Besides middle-aged, white, West Coast funk sounds mighty fine seeping out of the windows of a teal green PT Cruiser driven by a sassy middle-aged me.
• A year's supply of stamps.  I don't mail much anymore, but standing in line at the post office sucks (you know what I'm talking about) and it takes 2 weeks to get them through the mail when I order them online.  I think about 100 would do us just fine.
• A Book: The Holy or the Broken: Leonard Cohen, Jeff Buckley & The Unlike Ascent of "Hallelujah" written by Alan Light. I don't know why, it sounds intriguing and very English-major-y--an entire book devoted to one song, just like an entire college class devoted to one poem. Yeah...pretentious...I want it and not from the library.
• A Kenyan top-bar bee hive.  Those babies are a little spendy and I just don't have the skills to build one. If one appeared wrapped in a red bow on Christmas morning, I would show you a bee dance like you've never seen (nor has anyone else seen it, really. I don't really know how awesome it would be myself, but it would be amazing.)

That's it.  I think.  It feels odd, Santa, asking for things.  I feel a bit guilty. I mean, sure I really want world peace and justice and equity and access to affordable health care and prosperity for everyone, but, seriously, I work on those biggies all year long.  It's a little bit of a flip-flop from those folks who wish for it once a year. Not being Snooty McRighteous here, just sayin'--I want to indulge a little selfish want too! Maybe I'll call it by the trendy moniker I hear others use: self-care and I won't feel so guilty. So, if you have a minute--or maybe Mrs. Claus does, or maybe that gay dentist elf wants to take on a special project? Other than a few stumbles this past year, I think I've been a pretty decent person...and I haven't really asked for anything in decades...

Warmest Regards and Happy Holidays,
your pal,
Kori