thanks Santa

Let's wax poetic - wax on.. We’re in for it When we enter the insubstantial country of love That secret theater, in an invisible mansion of moods it’s a resort that houses its share of speechless monologues and sore disappointments, all lovers know that, but there are infinite discoveries too—secret, intimate delights and sensual confidences. Ok, wax off. My horoscope this morning said, “any tension you’re experiencing now is just part of the process.” Peter (my bf), flew in last night. When we’re separated too long, remembering him, remembering us, can at times, seem like a memory exercise and I find myself wondering if I’m wasting my bikini years on a handshake deal. Then we’re reunited and bam, I’m reminded why it’s a ‘dub-u, dub’ again. He’s a delectation—in a Christmas bauble kind of way—shiny and dangerous because I want to touch him—but not be loud or showy about it. Leeza (Lisa’s 14-year-old sister) whispered to me, when I was getting some ice, “You watch him with the too-still poise of a cat about to strike.” I smiled at the complement because I love cats. Every once in a while I’ll pinch him, to make sure he’s real. “Oww! Stop that! “What?!” I ask, pulling back as if innocently confused. I got him a room at the Marriott Essex House. It’s 400 feet down W59th from Lisa’s building entrance to the front door of his hotel. I measured it off, with urgent steps—then I helped him unpack. We unpacked a lot. Later, we joined Dave and Lisa for a Christmas light tour—Manhattan’s flexing its wow-factor for us. I didn’t get to sit on Santas lap this year, I’m a little old for that, but I did get what I wanted most—I’m sure I’m grinning like an idiot. It’s not quite Christmas yet, but thanks, Santa. Merry Christmas - Happy Hanukkah - Merry Kwanzaa - Happy Festivas! . . Songs for this: Heat Wave by Linda Ronstadt Same Songs by Kelly Jones . . Two days until Christmas.. how ‘bout some Christmas playlists? www.daweb.us/xmas/ . dub-u, dub = a big win