I was fortunate to watch the last fifteen minutes of the Polar Express last night. It made me think how much I love this time of year. Yes, as many, I celebrate the birth of baby Jesus and yes, I appreciate the true meaning of the day. But I also allow myself to become a kid once more and remember how fervently I believed in Santa Claus. I still do. Only now…..I am Santa Claus. And that’s good with me. When I go home at night to Mrs. Santa, I know she would help me off with my boots, if I was wearing any. And all I have to do is look on the couch or floor to see the little elves, disguised as cats and dogs.  It truly is what you make it. A love of life, a love of love and the desire to believe. Got it? I have. Merry Christmas. (We also have a chimney, which I will not be coming down).