Last night on the news they were discussing how hoodlums broke into a church in the middle of the night and stole money from the priest's office. First of all, if you're breaking in anywhere, why a church? Second of all, do you think there's a special place in hell reserved for people who steal cash from a priest right before Christmas? I'm not saying it's all that far from the special place reserved for people who insisted on wearing blue to their first communion (me) or didn't get confirmed (me again) but I do think some special consideration must be given. Third of all, the church officials kept saying how saddened they were because that money was intended for the needy. As far as I'm concerned, anyone who breaks and enters for $40 is probably pretty damn needy, so mission accomplished, gentlemen.
Of course, this is coming from someone who, while babysitting Dorie's kids last night and trying unsuccessfully to get them to calm down and go to bed, ended up putting Santa in her cell phone. Nothing like bringing the big guy into the 21st century, right? I held up my phone to show them: "Look who I'm calling, you guys... hello, Santa? How are you? Listen, I'm having some trouble getting the kids into bed. No, no, they're good kids, you know that. And I'm not saying you should send any of their presents back, buuuut..."
By that point, they had gone from screaming bloody murder to under the covers, wide-eyed and silent. And now the "recently dialed" section of my phone is endlessly entertaining: Melissa, Carly, Mardi, Santa, Kate. I might leave him on there; I bet he hardly gets any calls/letters/faxes/telegrams/prayers/shout-outs after the holidays.
Merry whateveryou'reinto, blogfriends!