Is "gettin' jiggy with it" even a phrase anymore? I am so far behind popular culture that my wardrobe is back in style again. (Considering I haven't purchased clothes since about 1987, this is saying something, don't you know.)
As you can see, I went a little nuts with some colors last night. First I changed Santa's bag to brown. Then I added the yellow flames and changed the teddy bear (at least I think that's what it is) to light brown. I'm not too sure about the stockings, but I promised myself to completely finish the darn thing before I tear anything out. I'm thinking purple for the package under his arm...then his ball on his cap just HAS to be fluffy white, and I think I'll try a really pale pink for the doll's dress. Good grief, by the time I get this thing done it will look like a Crayon box threw up.
I watched "Miracle on 34th Street" last night (the modern one). This would not be news, other than the fact that I bawled my contacts right out of my eyes and had to put a cold rag on my head. Now I know you already think I need assisted living, but have you seen the part where the little deaf girl is sitting on Santa's lap and the mom says "That's OK, Santa, you don't have to talk to her. She's deaf. She just wanted to sit on your lap." And then Santa turns to the little girl and starts signing away and they have a perfectly wonderful conversation. My God. That is perhaps the most beautiful part of any Christmas movie I have ever seen. And Richard Atenborough (sp?) as Santa! Brilliant, I say! Brilliant!
And yes, in case you were wondering.....I actually DO believe in Santa Claus. Always have. Always will. You will not convince me otherwise, so don't even try. If I ever get a tattoo, it will say "Believe" and it will have that damn bell from Polar Express on it. So there. We won't even go into my whole "Santa as the perfect man routine" because I'll get all mushy again and will have to go lie down.
The "Lights, please?" from little Linus in "A Charlie Brown Christmas" is also a contact spitter. I mean, come on. I know that we can all recite that thing in our sleep, but when little Linus walks out on to the stage and says "Lights, please?" in his tiny little voice and then explains what Christmas is all about, I lost it every time. Every. Single. Time. It's the voice, I swear. A tiny little kid's voice that utters the most profound and lovely sentiment for his little friend who wants to know what Christmas is all about.
Aw, geeze....there I go. Sorry kids, but I need a good boo hoo now. Please pass the tissues.