Quote of the day: “The public will believe anything, so long as it is not founded on truth.” ~Edith Sitwell
Song of the day: “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” by I have no idea who.
State of mind: not ready to be back to work
There is no such thing as Santa Claus. (Sorry kiddies if I just ruined it for you, but that’s what you get for being on the Net unsupervised. Now go read a book. )
My parents never tried selling my sister and I on the idea of ol’ St. Nick either. Never once did my mother utter the phrase, “If you aren’t good, Santa won’t bring you [fill in the blank].” She did say that Santa Claus represented the spirit of Christmas though, and if we decided to believe he existed because all of our friends did then that was up to us. We didn’t though, mostly because my sister had a nosebleed when she was 5 and went downstairs to tell my parents about it and caught them putting the presents under the tree. And naturally she couldn’t wait to tell me. So, since the age of 3, I knew who was putting the goodies in pretty paper for us to tear into the next day. (I also knew who to blame when I got yet another stupid Barbie doll instead of the Hotwheels track that I wanted that glowed in the dark and raced cars up the wall.)
However, there was on mystical group of beings she did manage to get us to believe in. The Birdies.
They were the gift giving animals that on the day before Christmas would leave you a new pair of PJs to wear on Christmas Day. Credit for these generous creatures does not belong to my mom though. Their creation belongs to my then next-door neighbor. I don’t know where she got the idea, but she had a small ceramic tree with birds on each branch that lit up in many different colors, so I think that had something to do with it. (That, and she drank a lot.)
Every year we went over to their house on Christmas Eve where everyone would be forced to sing “Happy Birthday” to Baby Jesus. Having cake on Christmas Eve isn’t such a bad idea though and I’m willing to do a little singing for it. Anyhow, thanks to her my sister and I found a little something magical to look forward to each year and would race upstairs to bed the night before Christmas just for our new Jamies. So kiddies, better be good or The Birdies will bring you Avian Flu and you’ll die! (Now wouldn’t that make a great Christmas carol?)
Fun with Fillion, which then leads to: this.
Angel quote of the day:
Harmony: You're right. That girl hated me. She wanted me dead. I matter.