I sent the last of my Christmas presents off to Colorado today-- not because of any overwhelming organization or sense of responsibility but because I freakin' hate malls and I freakin' hate lines at the post office and I'd just as soon avoid both in the weeks to come. Have fun on December 22nd, suckers!
A friend was sharing her sense of satisfaction after finding an impossible gift for a niece, and that reminded me of my impossible gift: when I was, oh, three or four, I asked my parents for a penguin.
Not a stuffed penguin, mind you. But one that could walk. And talk.
In the unlikely event they couldn't find a live penguin that could talk (and survive in Owego, New York), I gave them the option of making it a ROBOT penguin.
It's kind of a miracle they still speak to me.
(I also, at roughly the same age, wanted to go as the Republic of Chad for Halloween. I was kind of a weird kid, I guess.)