Santa’s Making Honey After The End of The World

Every year Canada Post runs an incredible program that is manned and operated by volunteers. In the months leading up to Christmas children can send their letters to the North Pole and Santa will write back. Of course “Santa” is probably a fifty seven year old retired female accountant but it doesn’t matter. The whole thing is magical.

Occasionally I like to spice up my sister’s life by sending her ridiculous things in the mail. Sometimes it’s a drawing.

This hangs on the fridge next to a mosaic made by our five year old cousin. Those are my mother's abs by the way, not an homage to snakes on her stomach.

This hangs on the fridge next to a mosaic made by our five year old cousin. Those are my mother’s abs by the way, not an homage to snakes on her stomach. I’m in the middle.

Sometimes it’s an awkward valentine professing my love for her roommate. Recently, I’ve felt the need to step it up a notch. So I decided to write to Santa on her behalf. We’ll see whether Santa writes back.


Dear Santa,

Lookin’ hot. I’m loving the black belt that you wear. So trendy.  Last year you were awesome by the way. I loved how all of the clothes you brought me also fit my sister which was fabulous because when I gave them to her, she found them very wearable.

For this year I would like clothes again however as always I’m a little picky. I would like a very specific garment- a bee keeper hat. Just the hat. Not the outfit, and preferably in beige. Living in the downtown of a metropolis can get kind of boring so I’d like to spice things up by plopping the bee keeper mask and hat on my head and then wandering through the streets pretending I’m in the middle of a post apocalypse movie. Also if you could bring me a guy who looks like Will Smith to help me out with the whole charade I’d appreciate it too. Don’t get too stressed about bringing me the actual Will Smith, I know you’ve got a budget. I’d also like whoever you bring me to be able to juggle. There is never enough juggling in post apocalyptic alien war movies.

Much love,



I should probably add that Diana and Phillip are very happy together and to my knowledge Diana has never expressed an interest in Will Smith or Will Smith lookalikes. I merely was drawing from my meager well of post apocalyptic movies which consists of “Men in Black”. Also I once saw a poster for “I Am legend”. Generally I don’t watch movies because that would requires for sitting for a period greater than ten minutes.

*Names of Diana’s boyfriend’s have been changed to protect their anonymity because they never asked to be a part of a family with a weirdo writer.

Illicit Sugar and Job Confusion

Once upon a time, when I thought glitter glue was a necessary addition to all objects, my father worked for a company that made chocolate bars. Technically he was a marketing manager, but at seven years of age his job title was irrelevant.

Black Chocolate in Japan

The cupboard contents of my childhood home. (Photo credit: gullevek)

The more important part to my young mind and mouth was that this job resulted in every cupboard in our house being stocked with some type of delicious treat. Everyday my father was sent home with an edible good to sample and create a detailed description about. A man can only consume so much sugar before he begins to stash it with the coffee mugs, next to canned corn and behind the stand up mixer. As far as I was concerned this was the next best thing to being fathered by Santa Claus himself.

Life was not all rainbows and unicorns in my childhood home. Although we were surrounded by chocolate, my sister and I could not technically eat all of the chocolate. We had to ask permission. Nearly always the answer was “No”. However we discovered a loophole in the parental framework; what my parents did not know about, we could secretly consume.

Diana and I later parlayed this rule into the consumption of my parent’s old alcohol. As a teenager my sister spent an inordinate amount of time searching for dusty bottles of booze in our basement to decant into inconspicuous containers. Our crime was discovered eight years later when the house was being renovated and my mother was puzzled by a box of twenty cobweb covered bottles of hootch, each with only a couple of milliliters left. God bless my near teetotaling parents’ drinking habits.

I digress. In Canada the legal age that one may stay at home alone is ten. This was an excellent year for me as I discovered a fifteen pound box of abandoned chocolate chips next to a stack of two year old flyers advertising a new candy bar. I ate nearly a third of my bootleg bounty before sharing the news with my sister.

When I was twelve, my father changed jobs and began working for a tea company. Supposedly it was a better position but from my preadolescent point of view it was a step down. In my mind our family was probably one job change away from the poor house.

In high school, my father changed careers again, no longer was he concerned with the colour of tea or chocolate packaging however I never quite figured out what he did. To this day if asked I will answer “Um…..? He’s a banker? He works for a bank? He talks to a lot of people. Stocks?”

My dad has repeatedly attempted to explain his role but he always includes unnecessary technical details which confuse the issue. Once, Phillip my sister’s giant boy friend explained what he did, and everything made sense. Unfortunately then my father tried to elaborate on the topic and my understanding was lost.

Here’s what I know

  1. My father goes to work everyday
  2. He wears a suit
  3. He talks to a lot of people.

Based on this I like to assume that what he does is very important but it’s entirely possible that he could be a well dressed ice cream man.

My father's office. (Photo Credit:

My father’s office. (Photo Credit: