Same paneling, but now we have a fancy Santa chair and a Goldfinger reindeer.
Wouldn't you just DIE to have that reindeer?
Notice what I'm wearing in DECEMBER.
A freaking tiny, cotton dress with foldover socks.
Not a coat nor a long sleeve in sight.
I see that I have a little bracelet on too.
Not so little, really.
I think, I think that these were a kind of paper mache type thing.
(Mama, do you know what I'm talking about?)
I have a vague memory of something like that.
You can see that Santa loves me.
Either that or he's looking at the clock on the floor wondering how much longer until he can hit the Jack.
WHY do we make such fun of these men, I ask you??
It's a NOBLE thing to portray Santa. It is!
I really mean this when I say that I just love and love and love every man who ever put on that suit and let a gazillion kids climb all over him with their earnest, and sometimes terrified, little faces.
BLESS THE SANTAS!
(May I please just say here: Please, PLEASE do not make your child sit on Santa's lap if they don't want to. It's total bullshit to terrify your child for a photo.)
Now, you want to read something TOTALLY hysterical and rather disturbing?
You've just GOT to go read this because I am telling you that you will just DIE because it is really, really funny the way "Eartha" tells it, but it is also funny/not funny, but SO right up my alley kind of humor.
Y'all know I LOVE this blog called RANCH DRESSING WITH EARTH KITSCH, right?
It's her post called: The Santa Claus Smackdown of 1977.
Oh. Mah. Gawd. You will be CRYING.
More baby Michele tomorrow.
Preview hint: I'm getting hipper.
PS. I guess Friday Food will be back someday. Just not today.