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.