Because he knows I carry one with me at all times, my boss asked me today if, if I happened to have my digital camera on me, I’d mind taking a picture of one of those inflatable Santa’s for him (work related because of use of inflatable Santa as metaphor for CO2 sequestering – uh, don’t ask). Sure, no problem, I said. After all, I drive through quite a bit of residential neighborhood on my way home. There’s sure to be one of those stupid things along the way.
Except that there isn’t. Not a single inflatable Santa to be seen (or, for that matter, any inflatables at all). Just a lot of cute little turn-of-the-century homes, with tastefully hung lights, and at worst, the occasional spiral light tree, or light frame deer. Even peering down each side street as I drove past provided no glimpse of inflatable decor.
And then I got to pondering. Could it really be? Is this just one more thing to add to the list of why I am so happy to live where I am now living? Could we really be this lucky?
I’ll keep my eyes peeled over the next few weeks. I’m sure that as Christmas gets closer, one of the houses will eventually crack under the pressure to be restrained and dignified in their holiday decorations, and one of those idiotic inflatable things will eventually emerge. After all, there was a house not too far away that cheerfully displayed a giant inflatable turkey for Thanksgiving, so I am sure a similar Christmas themed monstrosity is not far behind.
But for now I shall bask in the happy glow of living in a world untainted; a world without a(n inflatable) Santa Claus.
Happy Holidailies!
You’re very lucky! This year our neighborhood has sprouted the scariest thing of all: Inflatable nativities. I’m not joking. A littke inflatable manager, shepard, Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus. Though I’ve now declared if I ever start a punk band one of the naming options has to be Inflatbale Jesus.
For several years we had Santa in his pirogue, being pulled along the water by a couple of alligators. It was a lights thing, and we mounted it on top of our front fence. (Reference: A Cajun Night Before Christmas