It bothers me that Santa sees me when I’m sleeping and knows when I’m awake.
Does he see me in the shower? Does he know when I have gas? Ifhe does and
I do, will that make him go away?
I guess it is a small price to pay, though, this constant surveillance, as long as the presents keep rolling in. It’s a Yuletide hazard. Like fruitcake.
Christmas commercialization does not come without its downside. For every plus, there is a minus. It’s almost like real life!
Consider that in sports they tell you to “keep your eye on the ball.” They coach you not to “drop the ball.”
Yet at the same time, we’re supposed to “have a ball.”
Hmmm … The holiday season is especially pressurized, ball-wise. Opportunities for disaster lurk in the form of festive balls nearly everywhere you turn. Lurkers. Lurking. Doing what lurkers do.
I hate lurking holiday disaster. But, in a fallen world with a lot of round things, it’s inevitable. We’ve got to be “on the ball!”
You’ve got your ball that involves dancing and dip and parties. Christmas Balls. Galas. Will I dress appropriately? Get caught in Yuletide chit-chat? (“I don’t mind ordinary conversation, but I hate chit-chat.” – Bernard P. Fife)
Will you have an olive stuck in your teeth? Ask the host when the baby is due, even though she’s not pregnant?
It happens.
You’ve got your holiday bowl games or ball games, and the potential for slips here is obvious. Drop the ball, lose the bowl. Balls. It all comes back to balls.
There are ornamental balls to drop when you trim the tree. One of those breaks and it’s like breaking a light bulb. They haven’t invented something harder to swee pup than broken light bulbs or broken Christmas balls.
There’s the bell ball that hangs on your door and drives you crazy when the festive tingling wears off, which is quickly. There’s the jelly and creme cheese ball that lures the unsuspecting in like mosquito bulbs lure moths.Zap!
And there’s the most beloved Christmas ball of all, the cheese ball, which I eat until I get my bloat on. Who thought to put cheese into a ball and sprinkle nuts on it? How much time did THAT guy have on his hands that day? Regardless, God bless him. Yet there are hazards even in the good things, so my cheese ball holiday limit is two. (“No officer, I had just a couple of cheese balls is all. I was at a party!”)
Shopping is another holiday hazard, though it’s not so bad if you enjoy human bumper cars. I try to avoid mixing it up with a few thousand people whenever I can. But at this time of year, I’ll cave. “Silver bells” and “city sidewalks busy sidewalks dressed in holiday style” and “peace on earth” and “buy one get one” and all like that. It’s fun to mix it up. People watch. Spread the love.
It’s much more fun than driving. Driving? During the holidays? Just because that person has a wreath tied above his bumper doesn’t mean he won’t pick you off in the parking lot.
There is the hazard of
light hanging. Lights are hazardous enough, but when you go to hanging them, you are asking to get “lit up.” Those old limber days were magical, but I have hung off my last house eve.
Hey, Santa knows the Christmas pathway can be dicey. But most woe comes through pilot error. So take it easy. Relax. You’re supposed to have a ball, not break one.
