The length of this post depends entirely upon how much typing aggravates my forearm strain or elbow tendinitis or whatever it is. Here goes.

I can stretch my memory to recall glimpses of childhood Christmas gifts. Several years of one Nintendo game each year. Years of Transformers and Star Wars toys. These locking Lego-type building toys that were much cooler than regular Legos. And of course, the hours and hours of playing with said gifts the rest of those winter days.

Then somewhere along the line, as we all know, the gifts changed to necessities. Shirts. Khakis. Gift cards. Electronics. Computer stuff. Car wash gift certificates. And of course, those were set aside as plans were made to see which friends had permission to leave families' and go out (to do nothing).

Today I rediscovered that childhood excitement. I found my own adult toy store. It's the same feeling I got knowing I'd have all day to sit and play on the rug with the toys. Tear open the package and begin inventing something new, thus entering my own little world. I stopped playing video games toward the end of college. I'm not super engineer-y like Giles or Jeff, able (and desirous) to build my own robots or projection screen.

Instead, I like to cook. My new toy store is the kitchen stuff store. I love the place. Give me Sur La Tab. Give me Kitchen Kaboodle. Let me at Bed, Bath, and Beyond (kitchen section only please). So many cool toys to do so many cool things with! I want to buy it all. Saute pans. Tangines. Cast iron skillets. Amazing chef's knives and silicone spatulas. I need a huge bag to throw it all into, then let me run home, dig out ingredients and create my own culinary world. I get hungry simply walking through those stores and imagining uses for everything.

Mini-pot pies in mini-ramekins. Pesto-veggie pizzas baked on pizza stones and cut with curved pizza knives. Carrot-lime dessert muffins in mini-muffin tins. Curry-pineapple grilled tofu steaks on a cast-iron grill pan. Quinoa-pilaf stuffed roasted tomatoes (have to use a serrated grapefruit spoon to core the tomatoes).

Ahh, the possibilities. And I didn't even mention the mandolin or nut grinder!

Maybe we all can reclaim that childhood exuberance if we make room for silly excitement. Or something else equally as profound. My arm hurts. I'm out.