It Must Be Santa

As anyone reading this blog knows via my endless selfies the past few weeks :c), I had my hair done several weeks ago.

However, I did *not* mention (other than a brief mention in a reply to Becca's comment) my visit's other highlight (no pun intended) - the person sitting next to me.

Who was it, you ask?

None other than Santa Claus himself!

I didn't see him when he came in; I was in the back getting my hair washed. I then sat in a different section of the salon while the coloring was done. 

It wasn't until my stylist J and I went to her station that we saw who was sitting next to us:

Yup.

It was the Kringle.

And he was getting his 'do done.

"Oh, crap," i said to J as I sat down, "Now we can't talk about *anything* fun!"

"Too late," he said with a smile. "I already know when you've been bad or good, remember?"

"And you're staying anyway?" I asked. "Maybe there's hope after all!"

"I still have to finish your hair, hon," J pointed out. 

"So I could still blow it," I said. "Good point. Mum's the word then!"

Santa, as it turned out, was very nice. And he really did have a full head of gorgeous hair (his own) and an epic beard (also his own). 

"So what do you want for Christmas?" he asked me at one point.

"Boobs" immediately flashed into my head, but I thought better of it. I paused for a moment, then smiled.

"I'm all set, actually," I replied. "This right here" - I pointed to my head and then gestured around me - "This is my gift right here."

J squeezed my shoulder.

"That's good," he said. "I have a hunch you may get a few others too."

"That would be nice," I said. "But I'm pretty happy right now."

"Good for you," he said with a smile. "It's nice when we get just what we want."

"You have no idea," I thought, and smiled again. :c)

***

Santa finished just before me, and was chatting with the stylists as i came up to settle my bill.

"So you're a regular here, Santa?" I asked.

"I am!" he said. "They take good care of me."

"Right - as if they dared *not* to!" I replied.

He laughed.

"You certainly have the spirit of a redhead, Miss!" he said as he pulled on his coat. 

It was my turn to laugh.

"Your hair really does look terrific," he said. "In fact, between your hair and your freckles and your personality, you would make a good elf!"

"Oh, thank you!" I said, turning a bit red.

"My pleasure." he replied.

I'll keep it in mind," I said with a grin. "Merry Christmas, Santa!"

"You too. Bye, everyone!" he said with a wave. 

We all waved back and watch him leave.

"Wow," I said, "It doesn't get much better than a compliment from Santa, does it?"

"You know, Cass," said J, smiling, " I *think* Santa may have been flirting with you a bit just now."

"Really?!?" I said. 

The cashier nodded, grinning.

"I think so too, hon."

Wow," I said. "I'm clueless about these things in the best of circumstances… but getting hit on by Santa Claus?"

I shook my head.

"I may need to talk to my therapist about this one."

All I can say is if I open up a present in the morning and it's a blown-up photo of Santa's… er, "candy cane," I am in trouble. ;D

Speaking of which, anyone know how you get a restraining order for the North Pole? (Hey, a girl can't be too careful these days!)

Merry Christmas, everyone!!!

***

I think this song from Bob Dylan's Christmas album from a few years ago captures the mood of this post pretty well:

For the record, I really like this song! Add in the fact that he is donating all of his royalties from sales of this album to a children's charity in perpetuity, and I think picking up the album is a worthy holiday purchase for everyone!