I have this absurd notion that when I head home tomorrow (aka: the Arctic), that I will find some boy that is going to want to whisk me away on a ski trip for New Year’s.  I’m not quite sure where this idea came from, but as I was packing I found myself grabbing for far more clothing that I knew was necessary, including a bikini.  There is no reason that I would need a bikini in the Arctic.  I need a snowsuit and a pint of whiskey.

But now if I were to find some handsome gentleman that was heading to the mountains for a few days, then I would need a bikini because there are always hot tubs at those mountain lodges.  Even the cheap, dorm-ish ones have them because the people that run them understand how sore your muscles are after trying to prove what a phenomenal skier you are by hitting double black diamonds while telling yourself that there is no way you should have been invited on these trails.

I believe this all to be my wishful thinking to prove that I am not willingly going somewhere colder than it currently is in this city without some kind of reward.  This holiday season has possibly been the best and most fun one I have ever had, yet at the same time the most stressful and, in all ways, exhausting.  I always tend to work hard and play hard(er?), but the last month and a half has revealed a whole new plane.  Pounds worth of cookies, gallons of wine (and other booze), and hundreds of little hors d’oeuvre platters mixed with little sleep and long work days have made my body feel like it’s on Holiday Cheer Overdrive.  And it’s not even over yet.  There’s still another two weeks to go.

As I scanned through all of the tech toys that I want for Christmas and am not going to be receiving (save for the iPhone that I bought for myself after leaving my Razr in a cab), I realized I had no idea what I could ask for realistically.  At least in the material world.

Then the other night at Shecky’s Holiday Night Out I was at a stand that sold jade bracelets balancing a chambord margarita in one hand and my coat and 2 bags in the other (no coat check!).  My friend said that the beads all mean something different.  We both decided I needed focus and I must have barely been able to focus on the bracelets because the guy working the stand gave me some advice.  He told me that before he met his wife, when he needed to focus, he would read books.  Since I read quite a bit I asked him what his favorite book was which led to a discussion on Italian Renaissance Art.  It was weird, but it got to me and I realized that I couldn’t focus on the book I was reading, so I switched to another.  And I can totally focus on it.

It’s all too clear now what I want for Christmas.  I want to focus and quiet down the scatterbrain.  I want to slow down and relax, not just pretend to.  I want to not talk about the new job I’m starting in January.  Yes, I’m very excited about it (and I’ll write about it at some point), but I’m always thinking about work and talking about work and I just need a break.  So give me one, please.  And I think to do this I need quiet.

(This is where the guy comes in.)  I have to see family and friends all this week.  It’s going to be more of the same.  If I happen to meet someone along the way that is just so taken with me that he insists I join him in a cabin in the woods, then I’ll have quiet, but I won’t be bored.  I can come back right after New Year’s and still have a couple of days in the city to be refreshed and relaxed before that new job starts.

It could happen.  I could definitely get that for Christmas.