Three Days and One Room Later!

2 May

I have started the process of packing up my house, but what I’ve discovered, packing is something completely different from what I’m doing…What I have found myself deep in is discovery or rather I should say… rediscovering, organizing, discarding, purging, sharing, donating, giving, mailing, taking pictures of pictures then emailing/texting them to family/friends, calling family/friends for advice and with funny stories…it just goes on and on and on!

I’m realizing this process called packing is actually my “past, present and future” colliding into boxes and plastic bins. Which is why it has taken me three days to pack up just one room not including the closet!

Oh well, it’s adventure and I’m loving every second!


…it’s time to share with you one of my recent discoveries or maybe I should say a rediscovery!

“If Santa Were A Woman” by Judith Stone. December 1990

“The women we admire behave as if every day were Christmas, remembering even in July that simple miracles abound, perpetually reveling in the secret good deed, keeping the elf in self all year. Given thick enough socks, as a matter of fact, they could fill Santa’s patent-leather boots. And what if they did?

If Santa were a woman, we think, she’d stick with the same basic red outfit but lose the white horizontal stripe at hip level. She’d hire some female elves and start an on-site day-care center at the workshop. She’d want Melanie Griffith to play her in the move. She and her husband would be in couples therapy, because she’d empathize with his discomfort at being the dependent Claus.

If Santa were a woman, not only would she deck the halls-she’d also deck the first guy who suggested to her face that delivering all those heavy gifts is no job for a lady. Not that she wouldn’t have doubts herself. The night before the night before Christmas, she wouldn’t be able to sleep because she’d be thinking, why did I take all this upon myself? I can’t possibly pull it off. She’d consider asking for help, but she wouldn’t want to bother anybody. Then she’d remember her decision to really , really try to start delegating, so she’d call up some good friends, divide the work like a Mary Kay Cosmetics distribution system and sleigh-pool.

If Santa were a woman, no other women would ever again receive a small household appliance as a gift. And she’d banish the naughty-and-nice report, not just because checking it twice is an inefficient use of her precious time but because she believes children are children, not bad or good for goodness sake. She’d distribute toys, sure. But, knowing that the true gifts of Christmas come from the twenty-four-hour shopping channel of the soul, she’d also give quality time, penciling in the entire planet if necessary, because that’s the kind of icon she is.

If Santa were a woman, she’d laugh off the inevitable gossip that she’d slept her way to the Pole. She’d patiently explain the genesis of the Santa Claus myth-how it all began with the red-coated , good-hearted fourth-century bishop, St Nicholas. And if folks insisted that she didn’t look her age, she’d respond sweetly, with only a hint of exasperation, ‘This is what 1,690 looks like!’

If Santa were a woman Scrooge might be a woman too, demonstrating that we have the right to a full range of role models, from Mother Teresa to Lady Macbeth; that would be some-thing to celebrate. Maybe Santa wouldn’t always be the same woman. Maybe one year she’d be a hot young executive, the next year, a welfare mother. Maybe she’d decide to work with a male partner: Christmas Eve and Christmas Adam ushering in a new world order.

Maybe Santa is a woman, like other historical figures who masqueraded as men because so much of the world was closed to them: the legendary Pope Joan, Yentl and four hundred Union Army soldiers who turned out to by Yankettes. Father Christmas is, after all traditionally described in feminine terms-bountiful, benevolent, round and soft; he certainly performed crisis intervention worthy of a mom when the other reindeer laughed at Rudolph’s honker. And he always carries way too much in his bag. Hmmmm.

Naaah, Who else but a guy would make one grand annual gesture, be unavailable the whole rest of the year and think it made him a saint?”


Friends, at this rate, I might be done packing by 2017!

Ho Ho Ho!




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