Santa's Secret

The truth behind the beard...

Husby and I come from a long line of designated drivers.

Generations of teetotalers.

It works for us . . .

Husby also spends the month leading up to Christmas dressed in red and sounding jolly.

These two facts go together.

Perhaps I should explain . . .

Santa lives at the North Pole.

Where it’s cold.

His wearing of red velvet and fur is out of necessity.

Here in Edmonton, Alberta, though it gets bone-snappingly cold outside, Santa’s helpers – like my husby - inevitably end up sitting in a warm room. Surrounded by hundreds of overheated people. And in very close contact with those people’s kiddies.

Let’s put it this way: The red suit absorbs more than ambiance.

Now I know what you’re thinking. Simply throw it into the nearest washing machine!

And that would be a great idea.

Except for the fur.

Fur and/or water and/or detergent don’t do well together. Just FYI.

And sometimes there is a long drought between dry-cleanings.

Sigh.

Now the need for some sort of odor-eater is most apparent just after Santa finishes a ‘gig’, when Santa and Mrs. are stuck in a warm car together for the entire ride home.

Sometimes it is a long ride.

On one such ride, our daughter (also closely closeted with us) mentioned a solution that the theatre costume authorities here in Edmonton use. They call it ‘French Dry-Cleaning’.

1 part Vodka and 1 part Water. Mix the two and spray all nasty odours away. "And it works!" she said, holding her nose. "It de-scents the unwashable!"

There was only one problem.

Our household did not have any vodka. (See above.)

Being people of the moment, we stopped in to the nearest liquor store and Santa girded up his suspenders and headed inside.

A quick question to the proprietor and he was walking down an aisle and procuring the cheapest bottle of vodka in the store.

Happily, he joined the queue at the checkout.

Let me describe: Man in an overcoat, paying for two bottles of whiskey.

Another, younger man, buying a couple of cases of beer.

A woman purchasing wine.

And Santa, clutching his bottle of vodka.

He looked up.

And realized that all eyes were on him.

Smiling, rather self-consciously, he said, “I know how this looks . . .”

The man at the front of the queue promptly responded, “No. Looks pretty natural to me!”

Ha! Ever wondered how Santa makes it through the holidays?

You heard it here.