The Day The Blog Was Re-Born

It has come to my attention that from time to time random folk are stumbling upon this blog. While this development is somewhat alarming, it has also prompted me to consider writing with a bit more frequency and not confining my updates to Stella monthlies. I've always thought of this as something that our out of town family could check in with periodically and even more as a chronicle for Stella, something that she could look at in the future when she will, perhaps, be narcissistically obsessed with what she was like growing up. And that growing up thing, by the way, she is doing with alarming alacrity. But now that I know that it is being read by others, my own narcissistic vanity is getting the better of me and I'm thinking of writing a bit more frequently. While this is all still mostly for Stella, I'm interested to see where it takes me. This entry is kind of maybe a new beginning.

And to commemorate this occasion, I will share with you some observations about yesterday's visit with Stella to Santaland. Santaland is much easier to get to than the North Pole and yet, like the North Pole is a place where Santa apparently lives. In fact, not just one Santa. Many many many Santas. And just where is this magical land of Santas? Santaland, for all you inquiring minds, is on the eighth floor of Macy's. And Macy's is a mere subway ride from our home. While my 15 1/2 month old daughter has no idea who old SC is and, indeed, the very notion of Christmas, Yule Cheer and the like have not yet been crammed down her unsuspecting throat, I thought it'd be fun to take her for a visit to the bearded fellow in the big red suit.

We actually had a great time, arriving at an hour when the crowds were non-existent. I had intended to get there as close to opening time as possible - read: 8am. But you know what they say God does when you make plans? Like it is possible to get anywhere with a toddler at that hour. We'd have to wake up at 4am just to have enough time to put Stella's shoes on and get out the door. So our actual time of arrival was about 10:15am. Still, no crowds. We walked through the little village with the toy trains and dancing bears set up, no doubt, to give the kids something to look at while they wait on an endless line to meet Kris Kringle. In our case, however, all of this was just fodder for Stella to point and grunt at. "Ooo ooo ooo" she said arm outstretched in sheer amazement. Translation: "Hey Mom, look at those reindeer. Look at that train going round and round and round. what are those bears doing bouncing up and down? Damn that's cool." Eventually we made our way through Santaland and were greeted by a kindly elf who asked Stella's name and then led us to a little house - one of many - saying "Santa, Stella is here to see you." And lo and behold there he was, a thirty year old fellow in a Santa costume. Another elf snapped a few quick pictures and we were whisked away where shortly thereafter, I was suckered into spending $25 to get a CD of the lousy pictures that were taken. For why else even visit Santaland with a 15 month old but to get a picture of the adventure.

It was all actually really fun because I've got a really fun kid but, man, what a racket they've got going on at Macy's.