Tragic Sandwich

The other day, my dad asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I told him that I had thought of something a few days earlier, but I’d forgotten what it was.

This is typical for me. When I was a kid, I would come up with six or seven ideas. In June. In the fall, when my mother would ask what I wanted, all I could remember was that there had been something.

As an adult, I’ve become a big fan of the useful gift. One year my brother gave me a blender. The next year he gave me a paper shredder. A couple of years ago, he and my sister-in-law gave me a gift card that helped me get a KitchenAid stand mixer. I’ve forgotten a lot of gifts, but I remember these, because they rocked. And the only one I’m still not using is the paper shredder, because I used it to death.

When my dad and stepmom went on a Mediterranean cruise a few years ago, they came back with gifts for everyone. My sister-in-law, my step-sister-in-law, my stepsister, and her daughter all got jewelry. Before I got my gift, my stepmom said, “This is your father’s doing. He insisted.” I opened up my bag and yelled, “Olive oil soap! Awesome!”

Before Mr. Sandwich and I were engaged, Christmas rolled around. He said, “What do you want me to get you?” I said, “Oh, I really want slippers.” He said, “Are you sure?” I said that I was, and pointed out that in fact slippers are a very romantic gift: “My feet get cold, and every time I put on these slippers, I will think, ‘My boyfriend gave me these, and now my feet are warm.'”

When you are living in a New Jersey winter, you really appreciate having warm feet. In fact, even though I’m far from New Jersey, I still do.

What’s on your list?