Yes Virginia, there is a Santa. And we need him!

Growing up in Leave It To Beaver land, you would think that my Christmas experiences would have been idyllic. They were and this year was no exception. My sister hosted a lovely Christmas Eve fete at which we consumed several glasses of merriment (pomegranate martinis, who knew?) and played some of our new games. It is unbelievable how many bodies they have found under hotel beds while investigating “a strange smell”. At least according to Urban Myth.

Next morning it was, if I dare say, a spectacular brunch put on by yours truly – while wearing my new Tiffany bracelet. I do have to apologize to my guests though. I just found the dill that was to go with your eggs benedict and smoked salmon. So sorry. But the hollandaise sauce from scratch was delicious none the less.

We then loaded the car with ourselves and more gifts than one aught reasonably have, either to give or receive, and headed for my brother’s in Fenelon Falls. It was gorgeous. The snow was all but gone in the city but they still had over a foot on the ground. We exchanged a few gifts, drank, ate, opened more gifts, had more food and drink and then had dinner – cigarettes and chocolate milk and all that.

Emily (the best niece ever) then took us on a walking tour of town (her paper route really) that ended with a viewing of Fenelon’s Christmas lights. I tell you what; Norman Rockwell could not have painted a more perfect picture. Being cut from the same cloth, Emily and I decided to engage the others in a fight of the snowball variety. We ran ahead, hid, prepared a stash of snowballs and waited. It didn’t last long and as our stash vanished, we used my mother as a human shield. Like I said, the same cloth and I think it was yellow.

We capped the evening with several night caps and a rousing game of Rumoli. I was then off to bed and I still had visions of Sugarplum dancing in my head. I speak here of the Sexy Santa one, not the candied kind. “This is what life should be like always” I thought. My dreams of peace and goodness did not last long.

This morning we had a huge family breakfast (I mean there was copious amounts of food, not that we are huge in numbers or size) and then loaded the car with more parcels and packages than we had arrived with. As we drove out of town, I was glad to see that the shops were closed and that people were out spending time together. People need more than one day of to spend with their family and friends. Getting closer to the city however, I noticed full parking lots and “open for business” signs.

I have to admit that we stopped at a Tim Horton’s. As we stood in line I overheard (it was impossible not too) a man yelling at the manager that the drive-thru people had put cheese on his bagel when he had not asked for it. How could they screw up such a simple order? I say ‘screw up’ he used much more colourful, less festive, language. He demanded a business card and stated that the manager “would hear from my lawyer about this.” As he got back into his car and slammed the door I couldn’t help but think so much for goodwill towards men. And Bah Humbug too! Maybe he should have his Tim’s under the Bodhi tree.

It was just a slip though. A blip on the radar. I refuse to give in. It can’t be that bad. Santa will be back to spread the cheer soon. At least I hope he will be. Let the countdown begin! Only 364 days to go. Sigh. Until then, I guess it is up to us.