Saturday SlobberLove

Sometimes on Saturday, when the lunatics we live with are busy making a racket downstairs, assigning food that hasn't even been prepared yet to dishes and platters and bowls, we like to take a little breather and tip toe up to the quietest part of the house and listen for the sound of overweight man feet and reindeer hooves walking on the roof and if we are able to achieve total silence we swear we can smell the aroma of Pupperonis soaring across the late afternoon sky and straight into our eager nostrils.

Go, Santa, Go,
Baby Jesus of the Badbreathlehem