a necessary letter to Santa

Dear Santa, please don't bring me a triple roll of paper towels. Stop and think. They are NOT dreamy. Thank you for your kind consideration.


Oh, and here's the part of this post that blogger dropped on my earlier attempt:

I think that first and foremost, a gift should be festive, and should be chosen with the aim of pleasing the recipient. I have mixed feelings about "practical" gifts. If chosen with love and thought, there's nothing better. On the other hand, if chosen with the not-too-well hidden message that it's time you did something about yourself or your home or your lawn -- FAIL.

Thus, a 3-pack of costly Chanel soaps in the recipient's favorite scent - WIN. A 3-pack of Dial or Lifebuoy, not so much, unless the recipient has recently been heard to complain that all the stores near her have stopped carrying this product which is her longtime favorite.

Another problematic gift is that which seeks to stimulate a new interest or skill in the recipient. I received a kit that contained a pair of knitting needles, some yarn, and a VERY CLEAR ILLUSTRATED INSTRUCTION BOOKLET when I was 10, and I loved it. The palette of 28 different frosted eye shadows that appeared, with diagrams, about 20 years later - not so much.

While I'm on the subject (sort of), my ears still ring from a 10th grade shopping trip with a girlfriend which resulted in us buying her 3-year-old brother the extra gigantic size carton of Lincoln Logs. My friend's mother made us both swear that we'd be responsible for picking up the pieces every time he went to play with it, and not letting him build anything near the stairs.

I have to mention the time someone who has begged me to let her remain unnamed got our grandmother an ant farm for Christmas.

And as for gifts from my late MIL, I've mentioned the ugly housedress on the blog often enough, but what about the giant string mop she thoughtfully bought for me from the school janitor?

Yes, I said late, but I have a VERY GOOD ALIBI.

Merry Christmas to all!

Merry Christmas to all! 

This is a re-post of one of my favorite expressions 

of holiday cheer, The Night Before Christmas.

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the flat

Not a creature was stirring, not a bug, not a rat.

Himself in some sweatpants that had seen better days

and I still bone-weary from shopping malaise

Were snacking while sitting in front of the tree

and watching the Yule Log flicker on the TV

When outside on the terrace there arose such a clatter

We grabbed for our Go-Bags, then checked what was the matter.

In New York we've had Go-Bags for more than ten years;

The office provides them in profit-centered fear

that in a crisis we'd rush home without that tiny ration

of band-aid, tinfoil blanket, power bar and Dasani hydration.

At home I'm better ready, I grew up as a Scout.

I'm Prepared for emergencies and won't be without

a bottle of cognac, a warm cashmere throw

and some Drake's Yankee Doodles, they're what I know

will get us through trouble by night or day -

those chemical cakes are indestructible

cognac's medicinal, that's ineluctable -

even though cashmere's somewhat of a cliché.

But out on the terrace – a real jaw-dropper:

a visit from Santa and his new lead reindeer Shopper!

“Where's Rudolf?” I cried, “and his nose of Bright Flame?”

“It's called Maraschino, so he stayed home in shame,”

Santa sighed, as he called to the team

Of reindeer that worked on a measly per diem.

“On Clearance, on Killer, on Twofer and Blitzen,

on Markdown, on Promo, on Goner and Sitzen!”

“But aren't you meant to be up in the sky?”

“Not so much,” replied Santa, with a tear in his eye.

“The prices were falling so early this year,

everyone bought her own gifts, which is why I am here.

The reindeer walked out in a regular snit,

So I took on these new guys who just can't commit.

I'm just riding around out of habit, I guess.”

We gave him some Doodles and some cognac no less.

And we heard him exclaim as he rose out of sight

Merry Christmas to All and To All a Good Night!

there must be seasonal employees at the North Pole

The elves have got the sled all ready

There are new elves this year,

meet Lou, Mike and Eddie.

Lou has gotten tired and slack

from repacking the merch that I've sent back

so the pace is set by happy Mike

who zooms around on an unsold Target collaboration bike.

He's not embarrassed to be seen

on transport in purple, pink and green:

If it hasn't sold, they eat it or wear it.

That's why the elves are covered in glitter

but a diet of fruitcake has not made them bitter --

if you're part of the elf crew, you learn to bear it.

The rejects are sorted by brave little Eddie,

who works with eyes closed and fingers unsteady

which is why we sometimes find

sad surprises in our boxes

mismatched plaids, stripes unaligned,

and not that cute sweater with the little foxes.

Another new face is the list-checker Schlepper.

His job's to keep track of who's naughty and nice.

He goes through every request and letter,

He reads them once, forgets them twice.

Oh, happy elves! Oh, temps of the season!

I'd join your carefree elfin dance

'mid cashmere fuzzes and fallen spangles,

if I only understood your reason

for sending me these positively miniscule green pants

which barely cover my shins and ankles.