Raindrops on roses?! I don't think so.
I've been compiling my Christmas wish list to give to my husband. What started out as a few simple things has grown into a full-blown "If we had a million dollars and could buy anything we wanted" kind of a list. And although I know I won't be receiving all of these things - heck, there's a big possibility I won't receive any of them -- it's fun to dream. So, here goes.
- a tea kettle. I've never owned a tea kettle, and lately I've had a growing obsession with drinking hot tea. My fave right now is Earl Grey. Love it. It's a whole big process for me to make hot tea, though, without a tea kettle.
- C.S. Lewis books. Among my wants are "The Great Divorce" (which isn't what you might think). "Reflections on the Psalms" looks amazing. "A Grief Observed" -- written after the love of Lewis' life, his wife, died of cancer.
- house shoes. If you've been to my house you know they're a must have for me. Poor circulation I guess, but my feet are always freezing. Bath and Body Works have some a-ma-zing looking house shoes. The matching robe looks incredible as well.
- anything from Williams-Sonoma. If I were a rich girl my kitchen would be littered with nothing but W-S stuff.
- Feist and KT Tunstall CDs. 'nuff said.
- fabric galore from my two favorite internet places: reprotdepot.com and dillingerfabrics.com. Good stuff.
- the perfect sweater. Like Moby Dick and the Loch Ness Monster, it elludes me.
The following are a little far-fetched, but I can't help myself.
- a yearly membership to the YMCA or some equivalent-type place, complete with a loveable fitness trainer, like the ones on Biggest Loser. In my dream of dreams said trainer would follow me around everywhere, telling me what to do and what to eat. He/She would live in my house and prepare my meals. And I would look like a million bucks. . .
- a monthly membership for hour long massages given by some woman with a Swedish name. The place would smell like raindrops on roses and be dimly lit with a thousand candles. And Yanni would be in the corner with his orchestra, strumming some relaxing tunes. (Okay, maybe not Yanni, 'cause he drives me nuts.) But the place should be spectacular, not like the last place I got a massage from -- shag carpet everywhere and some lady with dreds in her hair and legs that had never been shaved. Yuck. No, it would be the complete opposite from that place.
So, there you go. Who needs Oprah to tell you what you want for Christmas?
3 years ago