Crowd Control

Dear Readers,

Shortcake cannot breathe out of her nose. This morning this led to a briefly sassy Shortcake, who threatened anarchy on the mean people who moved the stantions from the back hallway. Do not mess with Santa's elves on the Friday before Christmas when all the kids are getting out of school and there are 6 days left to see Santa.

Shortcake then proceeded to spend the entire day, literally, on the front line. She didn't get a lunch for six hours, but there was a 20 minute break in there. She discovered that standing near the front of the train made her stuffy. She discovered that standing in stroller alley made her stuffy. She discovered that blowing her nose did not help. She took a Sudafed, and that didn't really help. At the end of the day, Shortcake still could not breathe out of her nose, which, you have to admit, kinda defeats the purpose of a nose.

Because of this she did not have much patience for people who came to see Santa on the last Friday before Christmas and then were surprised when the line was 40 minutes or longer.

Two friends came to visit Shortcake at the end of her shift, which was nice.

There was one family, with two teenagers who needed some convincing to believe in Santa Claus. Shortcake told them to look up the Virginia O'Hanlon letter, which would explain everything to their satisfaction. The boy also told Shortcake the square root of 361 was 19, which Shortcake did not know. You can find the Virgina letter here and it's the best description of Santa ever. For particular poignancy listen to the song "Somewhere in My Memory" while reading it.

Shortcake is now home, chugging tea, writing a paper, taking drugs (the medicine good kind, not the brain altering addictive bad kind) in a desperate attempt to be able to breathe through her nose for the last Saturday before Christmas, complete with forecast snowstorm.