Ugh! I’m sitting here on the I-00, that’s the highway North Pole for all those out-of-towners, I’m looking at you Rudolph! Little do most people know that Rudolph spends his summers on the islands of the Bahamas doing nothing but sipping from coconut shells and eating lots of gourmet pineapple-glazed hay. You see, every December, it’s nothing but crowds on this ice block, hoards to get to that Santa appearance (the santarazzi is absolutely insane!), lines upon lines of elves playing catch-up for all the procrastination they produced all year long. The Twitter feeds are constantly updated by all the walruses that have no time to do anything besides sit on their lazy tusks, gossiping about who’s been naughty and who’s been nice. It gives me a headache.
My life partner and I have had our second egg hatch last week. I had to run to the ocean to digest enough food for us and our family. Talk about internal food storage! I’m just ready to get home and relax. I just barely put up the lights on our nest and the whole cul-de-sac is about to traverse into our annual lets-get-so-close-together-that-one-of-us-is-sure-to-barf fest. I like snuggling and all, but come on, The Wilsons always snuggle a little too close, if you know what I mean.
I’m about home. I smell my favorite, rotten kelp, on my breath. That must mean its supper time. And look at my wife’s beak shine from across the iceberg. Snow’s slowly falling, the lights glowing underneath, she must be floating. And the two newest additions are nuzzled beneath her belly. I guess this holiday isn’t so bad.
