overload!

What do you get when you cross and elephant, with a banana? What do you call a bird that doesn’t eat? Why did the Chicken cross the road? What do you call the relationship of a pumpkin’s circumference to its diameter? What happened to Reginald?

All these questions, and maybe one or two more, will be answered. I got summit! Wake up, wake up, wake up! (click 4) No you may not take dance lessons. You’ve gotta stop talking to me. I’m not stupid! Heeeeelp! Blah... 

This simply proves that I watch too many youtube, et al, videos.

Now, to business.

Friday at work was “A Taste of Festival.” A dozen tables around the stores were stocked with friendly, smiling employees waiting to give you a sample of fruit dips, wine, artisan breads, pizza, and so, SOOOOOOO much more. Also in attendance was Santa Claus. I was so excited to see him. I stood behind the teller counter at the in-store bank, waiting for him to walk by. Suddenly, the sound of jingling bells pierced the air. A hearty “Ho-ho-ho!” was heard throughout the store. I heard the heavy trod of boots on the linoleum.  And there he was. Somewhat shorter than expected,  and a little more grey in the mustache than white, but his attire was unmistakable, and his merry attitude was contagious. A grin wider than the Mississippi split my face, and my hand shot up and eagerly waved back and forth in short, choppy motions as his eyes fell on me. His cherubic cheeks turned even more rounded and red as he laid eyes on me, and a soft laughter came from him. An hour later, he walked past again, and my smile again met his eye. This time, he bent at the waist, hands on his knees, laughter coming deep from his bouncing belly. I got my picture with him. Yes; I’m 22, and still believe in Santa.

Santa is an integral part of my Christmas experience. He is the spirit of the holiday tradition of giving. He is charitable and likeable. He is selfless with his time and possessions, spending quality family moments around the world giving to everyone. I would like to be like him. To greet squalling, angry children who have a tendency to tangle my beard and pull on my hair, act atrociously and widdle on my lap with a laugh, a smile, and a candy cane. I want to take the sour parts of this world and work to make them sweeter, even at the expense of having to dry clean my red velvet suit 3 times a day.