Mesa Mall

I can't believe that I haven't put this down, but one Friday, before Christmas, I for some bizarre reason, decided we needed to go visit Santa, so that the girls could tell him what they wanted for Christmas. Who can say why I felt the need to participate in the bizarre ritual of sitting on some curmudgeony old man's lap in the middle of the mall, and then confiding wishes to this man, but we loaded up and did it. We did it last year and Francesca loved it. Last year's Santa was adorable. He was quite handsome, for an older gent with a beard and sparkling blue eyes. He primped before the picture and was kind and personable and you could tell that he was really into listening to the children.

This year however, was a different story. We arrived at the mall at about 10:30 on a Friday morning and there wasn't a line so we walked right up to Santa. As Francesca was saying hello and climbing onto his lap, he belched. He said excuse me, but it was a bit shocking and I actually detected the faint smell of booze. He cut the girls off so that they could hurry and snap a picture. He wasn't even fat or fake fat, his suit hung off of him like a big velvet curtain. By the time we reached the cashier, I was able to confirm that the entire operation smelled like booze, from Santa to the elf that took my money. At first I was secretly outraged . . . should I call 911 or something? Surely this isn't good and is probably illegal to be in public with children and smelling boozy? Then I thought, maybe this is like the Santa Land Diaries, a really horrible job, and they're all driven to drinking at 10am in order better deal with crying children, pushy grown ups and the like. When I called my dad afterwards, he said, "Sounds like Santa and the elves tied one on last night," like he could relate or something. Needless to say, we'll probably find a way around that tradition next year.

When I was a kid, Santa actually came to my house to see what we wanted before Christmas so we were deprived of the whole Mall Santa experience. I think my mom rented a costume for the neighbor, Mr. Bouse and he came dressed as Santa. I have pictures. It was pretty awesome. And I was clueless. Even when Mrs. Bouse returned the costume and then apologized profusely, I still didn't get it. It wasn't until mom came to pick us up from Auntie Kathie's one day after school and when we ran to get into her car she said, "Don't look in that bag! Don't get near the car! Get away from here!" or something really bizarre sounding like that, that I began to suspect something was up. All I saw was pink-ness in a bag in the front seat. I didn't see WHAT it was, just pinkness. Then on Christmas day, I got a little pink Hello Kitty bucket in my stocking and the gig was up. I remember feeling like Christmas wasn't quite as fun the following year, without the magic of Santa. I remember feeling a little sad that Santa wasn't real, like when you think your cousins are coming over, but then they don't because they found a better Christmas Eve party, except for without the crying. This year, when Andrew did the jingly bells outside our window while I lay in bed with the girls, the magic was back. The excitement was tangible. I felt a lump in my chest and had to restrain myself from laughing as the girls lay perfectly quiet, paralyzed with anticipation.

Its so funny how we change. I remember sitting in a camper in Mexico, almost exactly 10 years ago listening to my friend Don Carmello fume about the rolling power outages in California, "Hello, people! In the wintertime, people use more electricity, it gets darker earlier, its cold, so they use more heat, then they plug in additional lights for Christmas trees and outside lights. Its crazy." And he's right. Environmentally speaking, its crazy but its part of the magic. When we drove home from Granny's house tonight and the girls said, "Drive by Max Noland's! Drive by the Peace on Earth! Drive by Rudolf! Drive by the blow up Santa!" I felt just as sad as they did that everyone has taken down their Christmas lights. We have to wait another whole year for Christmas magic? Next year, we'll do like our neighbors and buy LED lights. And there's always another holiday to look forward to - Francesca's birthday, Granny's, mine, all in January.

We undecorated our tree today and I plucked about 50 big pine cones off our little tree. I love our tree so much that its still standing, naked in our living room. I'm trying to think of what else we can do with it, and all I can come up with is BURN IT! Maybe we'll haul it up to Granny's for a bonfire. At least that horrid inversion has finally blown out of here. I have never seen the air so nasty in the Grand Valley. But I asked my mom if she had ever seen it like this and she said yes, which points to what I failed to notice in my youth and what I DO notice in my old age . . . yippee pollution and boozy Santas!