Sky Mall

I am not an obedient flyer. I walk on the wild side. I don’t look at the safety pamphlet in the seat back in front of me.

I go straight for Sky Mall.

It is amazing. It is a game for me to find the most outrageous thing possible. I flip carefully looking at every page — after all, I’ll be squished in this seat for several hours, so no need to rush. My mouth hangs open and I vacillate between thinking, “Who would ever need that?” and “Why didn’t I think of that?!”

I gawked at:

Human sling shots. (The newest craze in outdoor games. ER copayment not included.)

Talking Smurf toothbrushes (Will they sing when they sense plaque?)

Bigfoot: The Bashful Yeti Tree Sculptures (Make those pesky trick-or-treaters wet their pants.)



And a Harry Potter remote control wand (How does it feel that two dead AA batteries can squash your magical dreams?)

I look at these items and laugh, thinking, “Who buys this stuff?”… only I still kinda want one.

I love Sky Mall. It is always good for entertainment. It is a better page turner for me than any People Magazine. But, despite how it’s marketed, I don’t need anything in its pages. I do not want to be ruled by having the latest and greatest stuff. I refuse to keep up with the Joneses. I will draw a clear line between needs and wants and spend my money in that order. I will save where I can and seek to invest in eternal matters.

Thanks for keeping me company on so many flights, Sky Mall. And thanks for reminding me that my money is limited and should be spent wisely. ¬†Looks like my front lawn will have to remain unadorned by a tastefully, shocking Bashful Yeti sculpture. And I’m totally okay with that.

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