“I’m just so thankful it’s so nice,” my stepmom Paula says, cradling her mug of hot buttered rum and gazing out over the light blue skies reflecting on Lake Sawyer. For mid-December in the PNW, the promise of a dry Santa Boat is rare.
“That’s him! See the blue lights?” My dad points across the large lake at the lit-up boat in motion, bringing the binoculars to his eyes and then to Evelyn’s. Although it’s too far away to see the big red-suited guy, one can anticipate and dream.
A story from 20 years ago is told, “That’s why we’re no longer allowed to give Santa alcohol,” my dad says, sharing the tale of how unlimited hot toddies and buttered rums led Saint Nick to falling into the bounce off a trampoline 45-degree, cold water.
“Santa’s not getting off the boat this year,” Paula relayed to me over a FaceTime call earlier this week. “What?! You’ve got to be kidding me?” I say with extra-wide eyes, my voice oozing with sarcasm.
Dock to dock, Santa will go, dropping off the presents to the assigned docks and spreading cheer.
Prior to Covid, upwards of twenty kids would show up for chili and hot dogs with no one far from the fire pit or peeking through the sliding door because keeping an eye on how far away Santa is is all part of the fun. This year the “kids” are just my daughter, my 16-year-old twin nephews, and 13-year-old niece, which is fine by me. A low-key evening suits me and my sniffly nose.
Next up is the toughest decision of the night — Yahtzee or, wait, I spoke too soon! The choice has to do with dessert: a layered casserole of crushed pretzels, sugary cream cheese mixture, and raspberries submerged in Jello, Christmas cookies, or a Costco pumpkin pie?
It’s hard to write when real life is so fun and engaging. I better go, but first video of our hilarious antics during the party game “Beat That!” Next up is Yahtzee!
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 