If Baby Jesus Had a Chatty Cathy Cord, Chances Are Slim to None That I Would Pull It

Plastic Baby Jesus Sans Swaddling Clothes and Manger

(By the by, don't make the mistake of thinking this is me holding the above faux Christ Child. The reason I know it's not me is because my fingers are made out of regular flesh, NOT over-cooked stadium hotdogs. And, apparently, the mystery lady gripping the tiny, synthetic Messiah, didn't know that on the sixth day God the Father also created manicures. See Genesis 1:27 ½)

"A GOOD WAY TO THREATEN somebody is to light a stick of dynamite. Then you call the guy and hold the burning fuse up to the phone. 'Hear that?' you say. 'That's dynamite, baby.'"--Jack Handey

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

IT'S NIGH ON "Here Comes Baby Jesus!" Eve! It doth maketh me so happy, how abouteth you you-eth?! (<--timely and impressive Biblespeak) Yeah, can you believe it? Tommorow is already the Night Before Christmas! ("and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse." Sorry, I just had to include that part, because it's my entire-y favourite line from Clem Moore's St. Nicky poem! I have always enjoy when little-mice-sleeping-in-matchbox-beds scenery comes into my head, and this smitch of the "'Twas the Night Before" story is The Sure Thing, if it's all about getting my grey matter to do just that. Yay for me, huh?!)

ALONG WITH Santy Claus up on the rooftop, cLiCk, cLiCk, cLiCk!; doorbells and sleigh bells and French nappy poodles (WAIT. How does that song go again? Aw, never mind. Since "long-winded" will probably turn out to be the best description of this blog entry, we'd better stay on track: KEEP READING.); twinkling lights and mega-gobs of dangly tinsel (<--One can never have enough of this stuff! Am I right, or am I right?! I especially love the

"probably loaded with lead or another such terribly toxic, because, man, nowadays you'd be hard-pressed to find even a half of a box of this silver-glistening tree bling in any Baby Boomer's mom's attic, let alone a store, because I'd be willing to bet Hazmat-suited Tinsel Cops long ago confiscated the last of this deck-the-halls" kind.

*gets sidetracked reminisce-y and sighs*

ICICLES LIKE THE KIND my Aunt Myrtle (whose Birthday would have been today. Happy Birthday, Mert! I miss you. Dreadfully.) meticulously draped each and every needle of our back-in-the-day Christmas trees, just do not exist anymore... Unless you're lucky enough to go to an estate sale of a dead someone who once built a panic room for their holiday garnish.)

GOOD GRIEF! Now where in the heck was I?! Oh, yeah. Along with all the typical stuff that goes on to make this time of the year so simply won-Won-WONDERFUL!, I like Christmas because it's the one time of the year when I don't feel foolish praying to or firing my most serious problems at a newborn.(You gotta know, I usually "talk" with the thirty-three-year old version of the Redeemer.) I must admit, though, I do make any messages to Baby Jesus short and sweet, and then, immediately and intentionally, I get preoccupahdoed with something--anything--else. WHY? Because what if Holy Infant So Tender and Mild decides to literally answer my prayers, right then and there?! Huh? Don't you get it?

TWO WORDS:

(And you didn't know Jesus wore turtlenecks either? Yeah, count this fashion statement among His first miracles. As for dickeys, He made them happen some time down the road. I think it was during His "Loaves and Fishes" event, but don't quote me, okay? I can't be positive.)

Baby talk.

YEPPERS. Someone solving my problems via baby talk, well, I DON'T WANT TO GO TO THERE. And give this a think, too: the only thing worse than a baby-talk talking Emmanuel, who has O Come O Come, would be Baby Jesus talking in an adult voice! YIKES! Like I said, Yule days are the only ones that I'll address a diaper-clad Christ, yet, with that being said, directly after "Amen," I'm outta here, man! Er, I mean...WHAT DO I MEAN, because you're the "two distinct natures" type, aren't you, JC? N-NO, D-DON'T ANSWER THAT. You know how baby talk gets to me. Thanks, Lamb O', you're such a doll!

No doubt blasphemously,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

P.S.
Hold on to your winter beanie,

(Please and thank-you to a lookee-lookee very, very closely. I'm perched on the swirly one. But then again, maybe not. I just prayed to Baby Jesus, so, likely, I've already left.)
I'm on a roll!

YOU'RE PROBABLY FAMILIAR with the legend of the Christmas animals? You know, the shared-by-many-countries tale whose “according to” is this in a nutshell (copied and pasted [and dabbed with a few by-me change-ups] from who knows where, because, cripes, I lost the source web page!):

"Christ's birth occurred at exactly midnight. Inside the stable, the animals watched in wonder as the new-born Christ the Lord was lovingly wrapped in swaddling clothes and placed in a manger. Suddenly, God gave voice to the animals and immediately they began to praise God for the miracle they had just seen. This went on for several minutes and, just before the entrance of the shepherds--who had hurried to the stable because angels had told them the Christ had been born there--the animals again fell silent. The legend of the talking animals persists to this day in Scandinavia. And every Christmas Eve, wide-eyed children creep into stables just before midnight."

But have you heard
"THE REST OF THE STORY"?

A SMITCH BEFORE midnight, Mary's nesting instinct kicked in again. A grin-and-bear-everything, but dead-tired Joseph (<--as of yet, he had not been declared a saint, but, boy, oh, boy, this just might do it), who had ever so compliantly pushed the barn furniture out of the way so that the Blessed Mother-to-be could feverishly vacuum, decided to leave things "put," after she had finished. Then, LO AND BEHOLD! Mere seconds before the clock was to strike twelve, the very first talky miracle occurred! (<–You didn't know there were two, did you?)

FROM OUT OF THE SHADOWS an observant, little pony, taking notice of where Joseph had inappropriately planted the manger, spoke his praise-be-our-nearly-hearly-Savior mind:

"Nobody puts Baby in a corner!
he heavy-on-the-neighs spouted.

NEEDLESS TO SAY, Joe scrambled and the rest is legendy history --that of which, if I might add, also inspired a massive box office hit!

P.P.S

FYI: Not all the animals fell silent.
Much later on, the horse gave "birth" to

Reality television.

Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, Aunt Myrtle, the famous Mr. Ed, and Patrick Swayze.

P.P.P.S.

I could afford to retire,
if I had a dollar for every time I hyphenated.
OR watched Dirty Dancing.