I used to fantasize about settling down with someone and decorating for Christmas alongside them. Now it’s just an excuse for me to drink cabernet and do nothing while The Partner does it all. Of course the whole thing opens up a scenario where he can yell out things like, “Fix me a drink,” or “Make me a sandwich – with the GOOD fake turkey…” I’ll do anything he asks as long as he keeps hanging crap. Here’s a star-shaped Santa I made in Miss Peavy’s kindergarten class in Brewton, Alabama. My sister had made the same when she attended the same class a few years earlier but hers exceeded mine in both style and execution in ways I can’t begin to mention. Even at that age she could play like 9 instruments and I was only beginning to learn one. She’d tried to teach me guitar out of pity one Sunday afternoon but threw down the instrument in defeat, telling me I was, in her words, “Hopeless.” So Merry Christmas, ham-fisted Santa – you will forever remind me of my limited potential yet always push me towards greatness.