Once upon a time (4 years ago) while at a giant chain store looking for something super important (I have no recollection of what that item may have been) we stumbled upon the sunglass section. There were hundreds of frames. Big. Small. Medium. Dull. Bright. Blue. Black. Yellow. Silver. Gold. Red. Purple. Rainbow. I’m sure there were some with cats on them. Or maybe there were some cats  might like to wear. They had them for adults. They had them for kids. Some had cars and princesses. Some were even rose-tinted.

In that section of that store on that day I found the most wondrous pair of sunglasses. They might not have been wondrous for you, or him, or her. They probably weren’t wondrous for anyone in the world but me. But to me? To me they were the perfect sunglasses. And reasonably priced at $16.95 if I remember correctly.

They were silver, and mirrored, and big but not too big. And part of the arms and the earpieces were a bright glossy red. And I loved them. And so of course we got them and I wore them and I was happy. Eventually they broke and I was sad.

And you would think that’s where the story ends. But it is not. I mean it totally should be where the story ends but no.

Dear Santa,

I was going to ask for an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle but I don’t want one of those so instead could you please find me an exact replica of my silver framed, mirrored, aviator sunglasses with the bright red arms and ear pieces. I promise I will be so careful with them. And they will not get broken like the last pair. And I won’t let my kid borrow them again. And the cats won’t get to play with them. And they won’t put my eye out.

Oh and may I please have them this week?

What? Oh…

In related news I’m on the lookout for a cute pair of sunglasses.