I ran into Santa Claus.
I had to run to the bank for work and they were having their Christmas celebration! There were cookies and punch and there was an "Ugly Sweater" contest and they were taking entries from a drawing later and at 3:00 there would be a piano recital! I missed the recital by about half an hour and I can't decide if I'm disappointed or relieved. Over the course of several months, I have been to the bank very, very often for work so I know most everybody there. The clerk who helped me today looked a bit frazzled, put her hands on the counter palm down and told me under her breath, "You timed it really well! Once the recital starts you'd have to park in the back!" Apparently it's a pretty big deal.
But I missed the music and I digress anyway.
Santa Claus was also at the bank party! There was a velveteen love seat he was lounged on. If that wasn't creepy enough he kept booming with mirth and he had an arm around someone.
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
(sound of record scratching)
Let me give you a little background! I inherently distrust adults dressed up as other things. Especially clowns; clowns are the worst. They're creepy and you get the distinct feeling that if you don't cheer up and be happy they will murder you in your sleep. Ugh.
But! Santa is one such figure. Now, I like the idea of Santa Claus. And when I was little there was NOTHING more magical then coming downstairs Christmas morning and seeing Santa had been there. As I got older, things got more complicated, as these things do. I found injustice in forced elf labor and actually wrote Santa a concerned letter about it. My parents read it and laughed in a way I didn't understand. I grew older and all my fellow classmates already knew the truth because their parents had confessed. But I held on to the notion! I don't want to tell you how long I believed in him; it's kind of embarrassing.
But as much as I loved the idea of Santa, having him there, in a bright suit that looks like it would be uncomfortably hot to wear, was scary. It's like how some people are uncomfortable with psychiatrists- 'They must be sizing me up!" Well, what do you think Santa is doing?? He has a naughty/nice detector built in. Add that with my naturally-occurring guilt (My Mom says part of it is being Scottish), and the whole situation is... the best word that sums it up is 'sweaty.' Sweaty about being judged, sweaty for admitting what my heart desired for Christmas, and the greatest sweatiness of all!! Having to sit on his lap. A COMPLETE STRANGER. It goes against everything we are taught from a young age!
I wish I could go into more detail about sitting on Santa's lap but the truth is it didn't happen often to me. I can be very willful, and I sure as hell wasn't gonna go hug some strange guy.
So when I saw Sir Claus at the bank today, my heart fluttered a little in a fight or flight instinct but I kept mostly calm. Over years of self-training in the art of avoiding dressed up adults, I've found:
- AVOID EYE CONTACT AT ALL COSTS
- Do not show extremes in mood-- too happy? They want to hug you. Too upset, they want to hug you.
- If they insist on speaking, keep your answers clear and succinct. Don't let them think you are having a good time.
- Be the weird kid that makes the adult uncomfortable.
HO HO HO!
Christmas Carol Night Two was this evening! My Dad came to see it so I snuck over and sat with him. Everybody was great, again!
I didn't do much writing today, I will admit. I got home after 9:00 and was feeling tired so I watched Frasier and ate my dinner.
Tomorrow night, I promise!
Sarah
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