Thursday, December 17, 2009

Dear Santa...

I have had Christmas giving on the brain for the past two weeks as I've received no fewer than 132 e-mails offering me coupons, free shipping or extended shopping hours that I've actually thought enough of to open and read. I've deleted about five times that number from my friends at Omaha Steaks, Vera Bradley,, and for some unknown reason Dollar General. I realize that Christmas is Jesus' birthday, and that it is a holy and special time. I am not in any way trying to take away from the significance of the holiday...but I do sometimes long for the day when I would just grab the Sears catalog and go at my wish list with admirable gusto on a sheet of Blue Horse notebook paper using a number two pencil and powered by nothing except "ME" to the third power and probably entirely too much sugar. Now that I am much older, I realize that a list to Santa might be helpful...but I'm not holding my breath. But here goes just in case the Hallmark Channel movies actually are fo' real:

Dear Santa:

As someone who obviously shops at the North Pole "Big and Tall" Shop, I am sure that you can understand why I would really love to take off about forty or a hundred pounds in short order. Much as you have difficulty getting through chimneys and the like...I'd love to just sit down in a chair without worrying about its ability to keep me aloft. So, please give my excess weight to someone who really needs it...I have a list of celebrities that have enough time on their hands to exercise with their personal trainers and spend all of their time not eating. As for me, I'd just like a year or two of not shopping in the Junior Zeppelin Department.

My second wish would be that the Scholarship Fairy would sprinkle some incentive dust all over my two children. I'd love a call from the Financial Aid Office at University of Alabama offering my two unlimited scholarship dollars. At the very least, I would love for Her Highness to be overwhelmed with a desire to live in the far more economical university housing.

My third would be that Merry Maids would come to this house and clean it all up so that I could get over the obsession with wanting to call them for a free consultation. Only the fear of their incessant laughter or whoops of "I ain't goin' there..." keeps me from picking up the phone. Big Dave does what he can, but I did not inherit the ability to enjoy or tolerate housework without strong a visit from guests or possibly...the local Health Department.

I'd love to have every bill paid off, job security, and hair that didn't require alteration every eight weeks. I'd also love an aversion to sugar, a new battery for my Honda, and self-bathing dogs. What I couldn't do with an allergy to chocolate, a preloaded Visa card for incidentals, and having Barack Obama just decide to resign because he's tired of the demands of traveling and flying Michelle to New York for date night.

If it isn't too much, could you also correct Big Dave's snoring, remove the Democrats from power, and give me a new desire and ability to cook delicious and budget friendly meals? If you can't figure that last one out...just send me a chef instead. I'll manage.

I've actually been a pretty good girl this year. I've supported Clever in Zambia, tried to help people when I was able, and I haven't been too sassy most days. In spite of the fact that I am the mother of two teenagers and I live in a place where people don't know how to drive, I have not blown up too often...relatively speaking. So...I hope that this helps.

I'll be leaving cookies and milk for you...just in case.

Merry Christmas!

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