1. Grass grows uphill
3. It’s only gonna give you a big head
Saturday morning, early, I looked out the kitchen window and saw Santa on John Hitchcock’s roof. It shouldn’t have surprised me, because John tends to go a bit overboard with his decorating, but this Santa seemed to be walking across the beautiful wood shake roof and talking on a cell phone. Besides, July is no time for a Santa to be hanging around my neighbor’s house at all.
I filled my cup with decaf this time and watched the date-challenged apparition for a few minutes. He didn’t seem to be doing any harm, so I thought I’d just let him be. Every once in a while I take a vacation from caffeine. It does wonders for my tolerance level.
By six-thirty, though the red-suited person—by now I had become pretty sure it was a person and not a super animatronic marvel—had gone to sit on the north edge of the roof with two shiny plastic boots hanging over the porch. This was finally getting interesting. What was he going to do next?
(somehow I just couldn’t get started this time)