Santa's been pretty good to me, most of the time. I asked for a keyboard; I got a TV. I asked for a stereo; I got a Keyboard. I asked for a guitar and I got a Stereo. Ultimately, he seems to give me what I want when he feels fit. Though he never got me that guitar. No, the guitar was a casual trade among transient youths living in homes that would take them in. Mine happened to be my VW Bus. The trade was for a pack of cigarettes.

For nearly 17 years now I keep telling myself I'm going to learn that thing. That thing that I wanted but was totally denied. Every time I ask for a lesson I once again learn that the fret is to wide for my small fingers. One day with my finger nails trimmed and my passion focused en pointe, I'm going to learn how to play that five dollar guitar the way street cons play the illusive cup game. I could've bought a more suitable guitar during all of these years, but there's something I desire in mastering an instrument that mocks me, something once so forbidden, but now present and waiting for me to conquer my physical shortcomings in spite of us both.

Santa's also brought me heavy heartache. Lost lovers, stolen-from-my-truck Christmas presents chosen personally from my own private history, the taking away of the life of a family patriarch who reveled in life itself. I know what Christmas brings. I know what Christmas takes away. I know someone experiencing that loss right now. Having lived with so many families I've witnessed how easily the spirit can be torn away yet I've also seen how quietly the spirit mends broken hearts that hardly knew of the deep trouble they were in.

This year for Christmas, I bought my own gifts. Two frivolous things that I really wanted. One I shopped for for no less than ten years, but yesterday, I found a Pyrex French Press for $8. That's a Merry Christmas. And since Jeremy has been too busy trying to walk softly in his parents house while carry a big stick to keep his dogs from being any more burdensome than three dogs can be, I'm going to let that be his gift to me!

I still feel like I should buy something big for my mom, but I've helped her stand up to lawyers, doctor's office busy-bodies, and anyone else who's telling her to give up. When I say helped her I mean that I've been jumping right in between her and those bullies and I've been facing them down. So that along with a few household projects that have been put off for years are now fixed, or getting there. And maybe her heart's mended a bit.

All I wanted for Christmas was to be in California selling my Aggrevated Affirmations CDs and Jeremy's new CD online and on the street. My online blog still isn't working properly and I attempted to put a link to buy my CD and there's even more problems with my site. I'm far from my goal, but my friend just had his car stolen outside of a burger joint in California and I remember being robbed at Christmas. He probably remembers it, too. I hope he doesn't witness his innocence fade away in the mirror. But I have a feeling that what we're about to receive in the New Year is much, much more than we planned for this year.

I wish you all the very best and I hope most of you really know me enough to know how sincere that wish is. And those of you who are close should also not be surprised if I give you a lump of coal... And that there is Christmas. Sometimes a Lump of Coal is just a silly-named dark beer you can share with your closest rather than an ominous warning about how you need to change your ways. Sometimes both.