A Visit from Santa

Apparently Route 66 fans can be found everywhere, including the North Pole. Yesterday, during my dialysis treatment, we had a visit from Santa Claus. It was a surreal experience, so much so that I thought perhaps my blood, coursing through the machine which strips me of all of my potassium and phosphorus, had made me lightheaded and delusional. But no. It was Santa. And I'm fairly sure it was the real Santa. He gave me a candy cane, and then stopped to talk, since everyone else in the unit was sound asleep, as usual. He noticed my Route 66 necklace, and between ho ho ho's he let me know that he has a '55 Cadillac and loves to explore the back roads. And to think, I always thought he only owned the sleigh and the reindeers, and I actually didn't know that the North Pole had anything but back roads.

Anyway, we chatted a while, and he didn't leave until he'd informed me that he and Mrs. Claus would visit Afton Station in January as soon as his 'busy season' had ended. You just never know when and where you'll get a good lead. Plus, so far I haven't had a single visitor from the North Pole, so that will be another feather in the cap of Afton Station!
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For many years, I've had issues with Cracker Barrel and thus have boycotted the restaurant. However, this morning I woke up very badly needing, if not a vacation, at least the feeling that I was on one. Apparently, it's been way too long since I've seen and experienced new places, and I admit that I'm well overdue for a trip. Since I tend to go to the same old two or three places for breakfast morning after morning, I tried to think of something new and different. I remembered that I saw a Cracker Barrel next door to the IHOP the other day, and so I decided to swallow my pride and give it a try.
I was pleasantly surprised. The breakfast was way too big and very very good, but what I liked the most was the atmosphere. It was quiet, dimly lit, and sort of cozy. Not what I expected. Although I resent having to wend through a gift shop in order to get into the restaurant, once in there, with a fire blazing in the fireplace, I felt very at home. Everyone else in the place seemed to be tourists, and that made me happy, too. I ate my scrambled eggs and grits and read my paper in happiness and pretended I was in Pennsylvania... or maybe New Mexico.... or even Kentucky. Anywhere but here. That was my mood today.
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Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I will be among friends, and I sincerely hope that all my readers will be surrounded by the love of family and friends, too. MERRY CHRISTMAS!