Tales of Wit and Charm…

In the middle of my front room is a pile of presents that need to be gift wrapped; only I keep forgetting to buy wrapping paper.

Dear Chady-Bear,

Insert one of the following holiday greetings, depending on when this arrives: Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Happy Easter!!

If you don’t get this by Christmas I’m really sorry, I spaced it. I’m fully aware of the fact I’m a crummy sister, but I’m all you’ve got so at least there’s no competition factor. And as much as we both love Holli, we only got her a few years ago. I was there from the start, changing your disgusting diapers, speaking of which I’m still regretting the day Ben fed you his corn.

I can’t believe you aren’t going to be here for Christmas. I hate that. I get that you love God but seriously gone for Christmas? This sucks. I haven’t been home to see the tree; I’m really hoping Mom didn’t pull the crap she did when Ben was on his mission: decorating a Christmas tree outside rather than one nside. Now that was a weird Christmas! I’ve told you this before, but going home without you there isn’t the same… I miss you. How many more minutes until you’re home? I’m not as excited this year as I have been in past years, and I think you being so far away may have something to do with it. I like having my brothers, Holli, and the kids close.

Mom said you wanted beef jerky and hot chocolate–good to see you’re still a freak. Cathy said you can find beef jerky in the liquor stores there, but I guess that’s probably against the rules, so I put two bags in. Mom also mentioned you needed warm gloves, but I’m lousy with all things winter so I’ll leave that one to her. I’m still sporting the stretchy Hello Kitty gloves I’ve had for years. I figured you wanted real gloves, not kid ones. But your real present is a promise from me… I promise to be better about writing you. I know you’re homesick and letters help, I relish in the fact I’m still ahead of Ben in that area!

I love you my sweet, little, Jesus-loving Chady-Bear! Happy holidays!!

Love,
Sissy

PS. The Victoria Secret Catalog was NOT my idea. Ben added it in at the last second, however, I didn’t stop him. Also, we sorta just threw random holiday cards from family. My fridge is full, so…

Dear Santa,

I’ve been a good girl, just ask the boys—they’ll tell you. So for Christmas this year I would like the following:

Pink or brown UGG boots
Paula Abdul to never, ever gain sobriety
A down payment for a new car or condo, your choice
Matching dishes for my kitchen
A kitchen
A first edition Dorothy Parker book
Lower gas prices
A pink terrycloth robe
Ben to have a normal haircut
Botox
Skinny thighs
A ring (Don’t worry Santa, I want something pink, nothing of the diamond sort.)
Pink Kitchen Aid to go in new kitchen
A Democrat as President
Gas prices to fall (Stop emailing me, it’s on here twice for a reason!)
Summer

Oh and some of that world peace people are always talking about would be nice.

Santa, I know you can’t give me everything on the list, especially a Democrat in office since I imagine you’re a Republican (I base this assumption on the fact you’re old, fat and white.). But Santa, that’s ok, I still love you. You also can’t do much about my thighs since that’s sorta between me, trainer Alaska Pat and the gym, but if you’re some sort of magician or baby Jesus than by all means go ahead.

Love,
Sarah

PS. It’s hard to set out cookies and milk without a proper kitchen to bake them in. I hope you don’t mind a vitamin and Diet Coke. I have plenty of both. If that’s not ok I can ask Arlo to whip you up something, but it would likely be something fancy, and Santa, you seem more of a down-to-earth-I-break-into-houses-for-a-living kind of guy.

I’ve decided the best thing about the holiday season isn’t the presents, the holiday lights or any of that tender baby Jesus crap; the best thing is manipulation. Something I’m quite fond of, but throw in the Santa factor and it’s better then ever!

While watching my niece and nephew this week I was able to witness the miracle of Santa. Kids will do anything if you involve Santa.

“What’s that? You don’t want to go to Starbucks? Santa just called and said Auntie Sarah HAS to go to Starbucks right this second.” The speed in which the kids ran for their coats was spectacular.

“No, you’re not wearing cowboy boots to school. Why? Because Santa hates cowboy boots.”

“You want chicken nuggets and not the PB& J sandwich I just made? Santa just sent me a text message and said you have to eat the sandwich, or else.”

After two days of this the kids finally asked how I know Santa. Clearly the only thing to was lie. I told them Uncle Ben had gone to the North Pole on his mission. Carter piped up and asked if Ben, or Uncle Mean as he calls him, had baptized Santa. I told them Uncle Ben had indeed baptized Santa. They were in awe.

Later when my brother Matt got home Hannah told him that Uncle Ben had tried to kill Santa, which I guess is pretty accurate. Baptism is a lot like downing, only you just get cake after and not a trip in the ambulance.

Poor kiddo, first the Easter Bunny, now Santa? I’m really hoping the Tooth Fairy lives.

If Ben had a house fire he’d grab two items before running out the door: his baby blanket, and his MC Hammer/Vanilla Ice album. Seriously. As an afterthought, he may go back for Vegan Joe, his roommate. But only after MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice were safe.

Ben let me borrow this cherished CD last night, with the promise I’d return it in exactly one weeks time. I’m going to listen to the wise(?) words of MC Hammer and hope for Christmas gift inspiration. I have a difficult time buying for other people. Attempting to find the perfect gift stresses me out. Ben, however, is easy. Obviously I’ll be buying him a pair of parachute pants.