Earthmovers and Sandcastles

The ThinkGeek paper catalog arrived in the mail today. I mean, I read the website, but something about getting an actual pamphlet in my hands really sets off the urge to spoil my man – all my men! – with little toys and gadgets. Yeah, it’s totally selfless. I’m certainly not craving anything for myself. That would be selfish.

Seriously, though, if I got the kids the Super Mario chess set, some kick-butt Nerf guns, and a Nintendoed-up playroom, I’d be Mother of the Century. And I won’t go into what I’d get for Eric, because…well, I might. Or might not. He’s a sneaky and talented gift-guesser.

Actually, folks keep bugging me about what they really ought to get me for Christmas, as it seems that I’ve finally reached that stage in most of my hobbies where people simply have no idea what I might need. Eric is scratching his head, and if the man who lives with me doesn’t know, it doesn’t bode well for my parents. Honestly? Even I had to stop and think about it, because there aren’t many obvious things that live in the area between the large “Neat, but I really don’t want one” zone and the smaller “Necessary, and I can’t see waiting for some arbitrary day to obtain it” one. I don’t have a lot of use for knick-knacks; we’re up to our ears in blankets; and while I’m always reading, picking out books for somebody is like picking out their underwear. You need to have a very, very intimate knowledge of the person to get it right.

In the end, I just suggest arm warmers, compression socks (ooh, Zensah), and whatnot. So creative, I am. Maybe a subscription to TrailRunner magazine, if I’m feeling punchy.

What’s on your list?

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