All I Want for Christmas Is... A Two-Inch Doctor?

Around this time of year, my first mate starts asking me for my Christmas list to pass on to his mom. This makes me a little bit uncomfortable-- Christmas presents are a big deal in his family in a way they never were in mine, so I'm always caught off guard to be getting gifts in the first place. One of the things I love about first mate & co. is that they are about the most inclusive people I've ever known. If you've spent much time with them, you're family, and not only that, your family is family. My mother and siblings are always invited to their big holiday meals, and have been even before Andy and I were serious about each other. When I was growing up, my family was just the opposite-- to the family patriarchs, even being a blood relative wasn't necessarily enough to get you accepted into the tribe. I can probably count on the fingers of both hands the number of times my parents invited multiple non-relatives to dinner.  It's a bit of an adjustment to make, but it's a positive one.

My other problem with Christmas lists is that I don't really care about getting stuff, nor do I like asking for specific things as gifts. I prefer to leave it up to the giver, presuming that they know me well enough to know the types of things that I like. That way, I know people aren't just getting me a gift because they think they're supposed to. I do, however, have a Christmas list of completely unreasonable things. Things that may not even exist, let alone be possible to obtain. I don't feel bad at all about passing that one around. So here it is.

1. A pocket-sized David Tennant who will sit on my shoulder and say "WHAT??" in his adorably confused way whenever something unexpected happens to me.
2. A taxidermied squirrel adorably posed in a tableau of my choice. This, like most other wonderfully appalling things, can be purchased on the internet. From a guy who claims he "can mount any squirrel in any position or style you would like." (How about reverse cowgirl? Zing!)
3. Moron-canceling headphones. Wouldn't it be great if you could get a pair that only blocked the frequency of people you found particularly annoying? As a high school employee, I would use those things all the friggin time.
4. Any merchandise from the SPAM museum, World's Largest Ball of Twine, Wall Drug, or the Santa Cruz Mystery Spot. Or, barring that, my very own crappy roadside fiberglass dinosaur. A giant Abe Lincoln would also be acceptable. 
5. Accordion lessons. 

Now, isn't that more interesting to hear about than stuff I might actually hope to receive? And doesn't it give you some idea of the sort of thing I might like for Christmas?


I rest my case.