Even though I’m Jewish, I remember at least once writing a this-is-what-I-want letter to Santa. (That was every kid, regardless of denomination, right?) I remember what I asked for: a plastic candy-cane-shaped tube filled with M&Ms. Talk about squandering an opportunity.
This year, I’ve already gotten everything I wanted materially. We closed on our first home, so sweet and cozy I recall literally squealing when I first set eyes upon it. More recently, I got a new 15-inch MacBook Pro, which felt downright bougie as a replacement for my Flintstones-era, employer-issued 13-inch MacBook that approximated the max productivity of an Apple IIc. On a trip last month to Las Vegas on assignment, I sat down at the bar at the end of a long work day, promptly hit four deuces on a deuces-wild video poker slot machine, and marched right into Crystals at CityCenter to parlay those winnings into my first-ever Louis Vuitton bag — something rather shockingly out of character for my death-before-retail philosophy. And then, this weekend, we sold my six-year-old Madza (still “new” according to my previous attitude toward car ownership) that had recently developed major mechanical problems, and turned it into a 2013 hybrid — a fancier car than I’ve ever had or even wanted.
All of that is to say, my material desires are more than fulfilled (to guilt-inducing excess, in fact) and I want neither M&M-filled candy cane nor anything else. Except one thing: this cut-crystal glassware from Williams-Sonoma.