Okay, here’s an interesting thing. My husband bought me this really nifty Norwegian wool sweater for Christmas. I love buttoning myself into it. I feel cozy in there. But as soon as I put it on the first time I felt a kind of transformation going on in me. I felt like I was becoming Mrs. Santa Claus. And I liked it! What in the heck?! I’ve known for some time that I am no longer a dewy-eyed ingenue… but… when did I start finding pleasure in the idea of being Mrs. Santa Claus? When did the idea of being the cheery wish-granting Fairy Godmother, instead of the lithe and winsome Cinderella, start appealing to me? When, exactly, did I stop wanting to play the part of Maria, and instead want to play the part of the Mother Superior and sing Climb Every Mountain? I’m kind of surprised by my attitude, to tell you the truth. But I’m sitting here with a smile on my face as I imagine zapping Cinderella into her new ball gown with a wave of my wand… I mean… how cool would that be?!