Listen, sweetie, your gifts are chosen. I had Santy help, but I told him that you probably don't want a skin-tight leather outfit and boots with 8 inch spiked heels. He moaned and groaned, but I sent him to sit out his pout in the basement of the Reindeer Barn. This is chilling to soul, as there IS no basement, only a space under the barn, and the winds up here at the North Pole blow a pretty fierce wind chill.

I'll get your pressie out in tomorrow, if the blizzard stops.