[for Sunday, Nov. 25]
Phil’s mom brought Rylee to town today to check out the Enchanted Forest at the Pink Palace and, ultimately, to meet the big man in red himself, ol’ Santa Claus.
We made our way dutifully through the twisting paths flanked by animatronic woodland creatures and elves, slowly (and creepily) cutting wood and even eating poison mushrooms. I was completely blown away by the gingerbread houses on display. Clearly, the people who submit them are incredibly competitive. There were castles and churches and a Southland Gaming Park and a Parthenon. And then there was this, which deserves its own Food Network show.
When we finally made it to Santa (and convinced Rylee to wait her turn in line; she kept either breaking in line or leaving to go watch the train set again), she cautiously approached him and sat on the wooden pony, before demanding a candy cane and then running off without sitting on his lap. Poor old guy. He was taking clandestine swigs of something between kids. I imagine I’d need to be good and liquored up before letting hundreds of kids sit on my lap and cough in my face while telling me all the crap they felt entitled to that year. The whisky helps kill the germs.
I remember not taking a shine to Santa when I was a kid. But I think I was frigging terrified of the Easter Bunny. I want to say there are horrible, horrible pictures out there of me in my finest pastel dress at age three or so, screaming bloody murder in the lap of a bewildered giant rabbit. Is that for real? No idea. I should ask the parents. So I understand why Rylee wouldn’t immediately want to hop on the lap of some random bearded dude in a furry red suit.
I was really impressed by all the Christmas trees various local orgnizations had up at the Pink Palace. There was a tree made from recycled stuff (upside-down light bulbs painted to look like snowmen!), a tree made as an homage to wine, and a purple Seuss/Grinch tree complete with fireplace being raided by the Grinch himself. It was ridiculously cute.
All those neat trees just made me mourn the fact that I won’t be putting up my tree this year. The cats will destroy it. I’m going to have to wait until they’re a bit older and hopefully less unabashedly insane. I can just imagine the anarchy that would ensue the moment I got that bastard erected and plugged in. And the thought makes me laugh and cry at the same time.
I have great memories of visiting the Enchanted Forest as a child. Back then (in the 70s), it was in the Goldsmith’s store downtown. It’s kind of nice now that it’s been combined with the Festival of the Trees (which used to be at the AgriCenter and where all the local bands and choirs would perform for visitors, including our band). Ah, memories.
That photo is magnificent. She is so unimpressed.
My sister liked the Easter Bunny (because she was a girl) but was horrified beyond speech at Santa. (And we had the world’s best Santa near our house.) They tried to introduce her to him at age 3 and she stiffened up like a board and let out a banshee wail that I can hear to this day, 36 years later. Never took her back.
But the Easter Bunny, they were likethis.