When I was a little girl, November was exciting for one big reason: The Wish Book. There was just something magical about flipping through the pages of that giant catalogue and ear marking everything I wanted to ask for from Santa. Time with the Wish Book was precious, as it was equally divided between each of my five siblings when the book first arrived. Some years my wish list was ridiculously long, but I find that as I’ve gotten older it’s become harder and harder to think of things to add to my wish list. I no longer run for the door every day waiting for the catalogue, but I…