Santa. Friend? Or FOE?

Haven't written in awhile. I would like to say that this is because my life is full of awesomeness and there's just too much of it exploding out of my super crazy teenage lifestyle that I have no time to blog. Alas, this is not so… obviously.

Let me tell you my average schedule of the past 5 days.


8:45- wake up and fumble for the phone cause it’s been vibrating it’s alarm for the past half hour, giving some very strange twists to my dreams, such as a rhino that wants to break into my castle kingdom that I have to fight using my giant sewing needle and thimble.

9:30- get to work, whether by car or by bike (nearly getting crushed by crazy drivers, cause the sidewalks STILL have snow on them because some people just “don’t have enough time” to clear them off in the last WEEK.

10:00- Open up shop at Once Upon A Time, have five unattended children run in and mess everything up and track dirt all over the floor I just vacuumed. Then have an old women come in who only wants to buy the sample doll, even though we have the actual doll in the box, in prime condition, with all the accessories. Somehow, she didn’t clasp the idea that it was called a SAMPLE for a reason.

5:30- finally send the last of the customers on their way, have to deal with the last minute shoppers who don’t understand the meaning of the word ‘closed.’ Then hitch a ride with a fellow employee and listen to a short rant that I’ve heard three times that day about the mailman or aching bones or other employees.

6:00- I get home exhausted.

Some days, though, I have it good and I’m off work. These days are made for reading, so I often curl up downstairs and read. I love it- however, I can’t help but wonder if I make myself too far apart from the rest of the world. For example, the other day my friend called and asked to hang out… I told him I was ‘busy with an important project’ and could only hang out for a bit… that ‘important project’ being starting The Clan of the Cave Bear.

On Sunday, I spent the whole day quilting and watching episodes of Miranda and Its Always Sunny. Day well spent? I think so.

In other fun news, I finally saw Miracle of 34th Street. LOVE IT.
Makes me wish that Santa was real....

Fun fact: I never got the chance to believe in Santa.

This is due to the fact that I have a brother whose 3 years older and a neighborhood full of boys who are older than that for companionship. I can remember when Mom and Dad would try and pull off the whole, "what did Santa bring you?" and I was like, hmm, I'm not sure, it couldn't possibly be the stuff I saw stashed in your closet when I was putting away shoes, was it? That was always the plus to having to do that chore. My brother, he had to take out the trash, while I got to do chores and snoop at the SAME TIME.

I remember discussing Santa with my brother one time. I was debating whether or not my parents were liars, or if it was just a big myth like the tooth fairy and the Easter Bunny (never believed in them either. I mean, honestly, a bunny cannot carry all those eggs around. And where did he get the eggs, huh? Those poor chickens, having their eggs stolen then painted and passed out. Imagine, and I apologize cause this thought is gross, that for every egg that gets flushed out of a woman's ovaries, some other animal just came along, plucked it up, colored it pink and blue and yellow, than gave it to someone in a fancy basket with chocolates? Messed up. And for the Tooth Fairy, well lets just stay I mastered fake-sleeping at a very young age). I was trying to reason why the Price boys, the kids down the street, got more presents than us, when they were so much more naughty (apparently I didn't consider being rude to be naughty.) Eric told me then that Santa wore a white sweatshirt with a Holoupki on the front. Either Santa was Slovenian and everyone mixed up Europe and the North Pole, or he was my Grandma.

My brother and I were master snoopers. Like, you can argue that any kid snoops, but no. We were the masters. The present could be wrapped up and everything, It wouldn't matter- we would unwrap gifts noting where every piece of tape was placed and then re-wrap them meticulously.

We had a system where one person would make sure Mom and Dad were distracted downstairs while the other crawled through the closet, unwrapping gifts and looking through bags. It was one of the plus-es of living in an older house- you could hear the floor squeek, giving away the parents position should they be approaching their room. Of course, I had an alibi-- why, angel Julie was just putting away the shoes like a good little girl who does no wrong and always does her chores, not just at Christmas time to butter up her parents to buy her more presents!

The only chance that Santa had of being real was through the presents my Grandma had picked out, wrapped at her house, and stashed in her closet until midnight, or whenever the family had finished playing their card game of Shanghai.

We could not get away with snooping in Grandma's room, not only because we had no alibi, but also because there were eight people in the tiny house, so from anywhere in the house, you were guaranteed to be within sight of an adult. And adults never approved of snooping for some reason....



I would like to say that I have grown out of snooping.

Nope.

Although I'm not as extreme as I used to be, and Eric and I certainly don't plan out our strategies, not to mention Mom and Dad have gotten sneakier (kinda) at hiding the gifts. However, today I did pick through presents and shake a box or two...