Hey, how’s it going? I don’t know if you remember me, because we haven’t really seen each other in a long time. I guess you’ve forgotten about me. I, on the other hand, have never forgotten about you.
I suppose I’ve had a lot of memories dredged up lately because I’ve spent the better part of the past month drinking wine and watching Hallmark Channel Christmas movies. If there’s one common message in these movies it’s that miracles can happen at Christmas. I suppose I should really consider writing for the channel because it’s basically the same story over and over. Santa, wish, Prince Charming, special ornament, engagement, happily ever after. What I want to know is where is the binge drinking and inappropriate revenge sex with the rival co-worker of the jerk who broke your heart before you get your wish? Why doesn’t someone write that script?
Anyway, Santa, I know you’re busy these days, but I’m asking for another chance. Maybe you could come see me again this year. We could reminisce over some Christmas glogg. I’ve been a very good girl this year. I know you might find that hard to believe given my track record, but I swear it’s true. There have been no naked pictures of me exchanged. I have kept wine growers gainfully employed. I took care of Trini as long as I could, and have now rescued another special needs dog. I gave up eating meat, aside from the days Miss Daisy tried to tell me chicken doesn’t count. I have refrained from staging a coup at work. I haven’t even used my ex’s voodoo doll this year. I think therapists call that progress.
I could really use some Christmas magic this year, Santa. It’s been too many sad, lonely years since I had a special Christmas. Remember the year I skipped Christmas and organized my sock drawer? I missed out on one of my dad’s last Christmases, and I regret it deeply. I wish for the excitement and magic I felt growing up and even up until my divorce. I’m not even asking for much. I’ll even give you a long list and you can pick one (or two) that are on sale or you have connections for.
This Christmas, I’m wishing for:
- A 30ish year old Swedish hockey player under the tree. I know I’ve asked for this before, but maybe with the exchange rate you could hook me up this year.
- A vineyard so I could quit my job and do something that really gives me joy.
- A baby pygmy goat, because I hate mowing and Bergen is lonely.
- A movie deal with Hugh Jackman. (You don’t have to actually get me Hugh Jackman…I’ve stopped asking for that. I’d settle for him starring in my movie.)
- One more conversation with my Dad. His name is Clarence. Does he need wings?
- A tiny house (see here), preferably in Sweden or Canada. Perhaps you could throw in the pygmy goat as a bonus.
- Prime Minister Justin Trudeau to somehow annex the U.S. and be our sexy leader too. (He could annex me anytime, just look at him.)
- Love, Finally. If it happens with the Swedish hockey play, Hugh Jackman, or Justin Trudeau that’s cool with me.
You see, I’m not really asking for a lot. That house is very tiny. So is the goat. I hope the hockey player isn’t (wink wink).
Thanks in advance,