What I Don't Want for Christmas

I don't want any lingerie from Victoria's Secret, or anywhere else for that matter. That's the kind of thing I'll buy for myself, thank you very much. I don't want diamonds from the place that advertises, "Every kiss begins with Kay," either.

It seems to me that jewelry and lingerie are the most thoughtless gifts a man can give a woman. Christmas advertising geared to men is all about giving your woman a gift that will guarantee you get something back (nudge, nudge; wink, wink).

It's so tiresome.

Give me a book I've been dying to read, the new U2 CD, a color printer for my computer (I'm probably the last person in civilization who doesn't have one). In other words, give me something you know I want, and the only way you'll know what I want is by paying attention to me, which is the greatest gift of all.

Luckily, Peter does listen to me, so I will be getting some, if not all, of the above. In the early years of our relationship, he did buy me jewelry, but things I actually wanted and could use. He bought a strand of pearls, a Celtic cross, and earrings. Come to think of it, I can always use earrings, but I don't want them to be the sole gift.

I think two of the most satisfying things he ever bought me for Christmas were a Loreena McKennit CD and a paperback copy of Anam Cara, which altogether must have cost $25.00

I had a fantastic talk with Terah Kathryn Collins, the feng shui consultant, on my radio show yesterday (which will air next Friday, 12/17, at 4PM ET). I learned a good deal, so much that I woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night when I realized that the worn and tattered welcome mat at my front door is preventing love, money, and opportunity.

And I'm worried about my mother, who does not like the rehab center. She says the nurses and physical therapists are fine, but the aides act as if they are doing her a big favor. One of them practically threw Mom's breakfast at her yesterday morning. It made her cry.

So, I'm not sleeping soundly. I lay awake for about 40 minutes and decided the hell with it. Conan O'Brien airs twice here, once at 12:30 and again at 3AM. I got up at 3, poured myself a big ol' glass of Merlot, and took it in the family room to watch. By the time it was over, I was sufficiently sedated and went back to sleep.