Tis the season I start crying: wha wha wha wha wha. wha wha wha snort.

On the plus side, there is Almond Roca everywhere. Also the smell of pine. And hot lights.

The problem is, i really really really DO buy into the whole seasonal delusion that something magical and beautiful is supposed to happen. And that it requires the expenditure of time and money for that magic and beauty to occur.

My child does NOT want to go to the woods to hack down a fresh christmas tree for only $5. She lectured me about how it was mean to kill a tree that is out in the forest minding its own business providing us oxygen and scenery.

She also does not want to go see Santa at the newly remodeled Santaland at the Historic Meier and Frank building. Screw you, it’s still Meier and Frank to me and always will be. This despite my EXTREME nostalgia for this place where I saw the Gingerbread Bear as a child. She doesn’t seem to find MY nostalgia compelling for some reason, now that she is too tall to ride the monorail.

What DOES she want? A new Christmas dress and an iPod. Things I cannot afford, but feel extremely guilty about being unable to provide.

I do however look forward to all the singing and yelling. In the car mostly.