Dear Santa

My youngest nibling asks me every year if I've written my letter to Santa. In the spirit of needing to wear off this espresso buzz embracing the relief of skidding to the holiday finish line a skosh early, I thought I'd give it a whirl. I may be a little rusty; it has been *cough* a few decades since I've made the attempt.

Dear Santa,

The End.

I don't remember writing to you being so difficult. Should there be an exchange of pleasantries? Ask after the family and business? Or as this is a request out of millions, should I put the urgency on your limited time and get straight to business?

Out of respect to you: Happy Holidays, hope all is well and safe travels. On to business.

And that takes care of the required adult generalized worry list.

Here's the nitty gritty:

• Time to finish reading any one of the three library books I've been working on for the last month & change. 
• To be rid of whatever bubonic plague gremlins trying to root in my sinuses that one of my niblings infected me with this week. You know the one. Adjust his gifts accordingly. Like adding hand soap, sanitizer and face masks to his stocking. Or coal.
• Genealogy records to break through long-standing brick walls.
• Carrie Fisher surviving & making a full recovery. Seriously, 2016 has done enough. 

Oh. And uh, just one more thing.

Or at least tried.

My home is starting to feel like there's room for 1 more little 4-legged furry, wet nosed hound dog. I still intensely miss the one who left us this year and am grateful our remaining sweetheart who sidestepped a cancer scare. But our pack is 1 short. Maybe you could keep an eye out on your flight tonight for the right fit.

Now that I've thought about it:

• Either the cure for cancer (human & canine) or the right inspirational gift for the child who can figure it out.

🎄🎄🎅🎅🎄🎄

From my home to yours, I hope this holiday season is one of peace and joy.