Santa vs. Scrooge

or Nourish vs. Nature. The War on Wollacott (trademarked, Don King, fuhgeddaboutit) has been going on for at least a month, maybe longer; it certainly seems so. Richie is insistent that he has to buy me something to put under the tree to open Christmas morning.

I'd be intently writing Christmas cards and he'd brightly say,, "Oh! Making your Christmas list?!" I'd be jotting down dates in my calendar; same remark. I made a list (rather comprehensive) of what I needed for our open house. Same thing. Maddening! I finally told him, "Don't worry about it --if you keep this up, I will have killed you by Christmas!"

I don't need any more clothes, shoes, purses, jewelry (the latter makes me sound like a godless Communist heathen, but it's true) because in the 25 years we've been married, I've amassed a very good wardrobe. NOT let me stress because I've bought a lot but because I never, ever throw anything good (or still good or nearly still good) away.

Nevertheless, we dutifully visited the Del Amo Mall, the Nordstrom Mall and then the Manhattan Beach Mall yesterday. Talbott's has the nerve to ask $59 for a skimpy white blouse made in Indonesia. There are no navy pants in any of the stores. I personally haven't seen a navy anything since 2004, but you never know. There are no fox fur toques to be found in Southern California; you have to go East for that kind of head gear.

When I said, "I've been thinking ... I'd kind of like a little spinet piano..." he looked irritated and said, "No! We don't have room for it!" Me (enthusiastically) "I know! How about a Segway?!" He didn't even bother to look up from the Sports section, but growled, "Hell, no!"

Finally inspiration dawned on me this morning. It had to; push has come to shove. He's not going to give up or give in; he's stubborn (it should be mentioned that I myself am not "stubborn," I am "patient.")

We're about to leave for the big book store on Hawthorne and I get to pick out any two books that I want. Peace at last!