I didn’t know that there are websites that actually promote letters from Santa Claus until now.   

Like this one that I came across, Letters from Santa, which apparently began as a fund raising tool for Storybook Castle, a website archiving some of the children’s literature based on fairy tales and fables.  

What parents can do is to order a personalized letter from their available templates, or alternatively, have them write up a completely customized letter for their child.  And there are actually quite a large selection of letters and papers to choose from.  They even offer free letters from Santa, sent by email!

The whole idea is commercial of course, and I’m sure many adults will sneer at the suggestion.  But I thought it’s kind of cute for kids to receive a letter from Santa Claus and have the whole spirit of Christmas made more magical for them.   Of course they’ll grow up to know what’s the truth but really, is there such a hurry?

I am really lucky to have friends with delicate fingers who can made pretty jewelries.  First, I have Ashes and now I have San. 

Since the last time I featured her jewelries, San has been busy with many more new designs.  She has also taken up my suggestion to launch her line of handmade jewelries under the name Sanz.  And like I said previously, they’re not the usual faux baubles because these are all semi-precious stones like amethyst, garnet, turquoise, topaz, moonstone, peridot, opal, etc set in 925 silver or 14K gold-filled chains. 

As her website is still not ready, I’ve helped her uploaded some of her creations on flickr here in the interim period.  More will be up soon.  If you are interested to order from her, check out her contact details there.  She can ship her pieces anywhere you are and can also provide customisation if you wish.

So if you’re looking for something lovely or unique to spice up your wardrobe, check out Sanz!

Yesterday while I was caught in a traffic jam on the way home,  it struck me that I had spent like two days working long hours and didn’t exchange one phone call or sms with my man.  It was getting late and I didn’t leave any messages to say that I would be home later.  But nobody seemed to have noticed.

Which is such a contrast with yesteryears.  

Before marriage, it was 10 or more phonecalls a day about sweet nothings.  Even after marriage, I still received a few phone calls a day, even though the number dropped significantly.  But now, we hardly call one another when we’re apart and maintain most of our exchanges by sending sms-es. 

I must however, qualify that part of the problem lies with me.  I dislike phone calls and can sometimes sound very cold or indifferent in tele-conversations.

But still, there is no denial that this is the state my marriage has relegated to.  A state of only maintaining bare minimum connections when we don’t see each other.  A state where we become too comfortable even when we don’t hear from the other party. 

And even if we do make phone contacts, most of the conversations tend to center around the boy and his well-being. 

So admittedly, I was feeling slightly sore then.  And it appeared that our feeling signals were unbroken and they got transmitted clearly across.  Because just a few minutes later, I got an sms from my man.

“Anything happened, suffering succotash?”

Brought him for a haircut over the weekend.  The Kitz Kid’s at Parkway Parade has been replaced with this new Junior League. 

Bigger and more fanciful with LCD screens right in front of each cutting station.  Same price though at $16 for a haircut.

The cut was slow but slightly better than what he got at Supercuts.  Luckily, he was mostly distracted by the cartoon that was being played on the screen and managed to survive the haircut intact.

Overall, I wouldn’t complain about their service.  Well, except for that part when the lady asked me if Gavin was a boy or girl. 

We’re back to swimming again with the better air quality and I’ve been thinking of getting a new swimwear.  Either a trendier two-piece swimsuit or even a bikini. 

But after yesterday, the latter is no longer part of my option.

Because I definitely don’t want to look like the bikini-clad woman I saw at the pool yesterday, sauntering around with prominent wrinkly ugly stretch marks on my already flabby lower abdominal area. 

I don’t care if that woman felt proud to show them off because she thought those were roadmaps to her children or medal of honour for motherhood.  I consider mine unsightly and would rather have them properly concealed and spare others of the eyesore.  

Frankly, I don’t need to show others my marks of motherhood.  If anything, I would rather show off my boy than those stretch marks. 

So bikini, I have to strike you out from my shopping list.  Reluctantly.  But permanently.