All I want to do is go pick out a Christmas tree with our little girl. In Santa hats. Like 3 goofy holiday girls. I want milk punch with a splash of bourbon, an enormous hipster ice-cube and nutmeg grated on top. I want to blow off work and buy beautiful glass ornaments and stocking stuffers for My Boo. I want to sing Mariah Carey over and over and over. I want to make Martha Stewart’s cookie recipe and deliver them to every single person I’ve ever loved. I want to read my book by our fireplace after Squirrel goes to bed. I want to dress my dogs in Christmas sweaters and snuggle them while watching Elf for the millionth time. I want to hike in redwoods and listen for their messages, to wear cozy scarves, and to take hot baths. I want quiet. And play. And connection.
As you know from yesterday’s post, our family is traveling to Dallas to visit my family of origin for Thanksgiving. No, I am not from Texas, although my whole family lives there now. For better or for worse, I cannot claim Texas as home. I always feel the need to explain that.
Anyway, as I write this, we are taking up residence in row 13, seats D, E, and F – living our lives at 35,000 feet. You should see the amount of toys, snacks, reading materials, and media we have managed to fit into a few carry-on bags. On one hand, it seems ridiculous that we would need so much crap. Shouldn’t we be able to pass the time in simpler ways? On the other hand, to keep our daughter occupied, we pretty much engaged every single item we packed while sitting in traffic just to get to the airport. Short attention spans and squirrels go hand in hand.
Of all the crap stuffed into our bags, I am most excited about the personalized coloring book the Squirrel and I made together.