Joy,

If I had the gift of confab like some of our Mudcatters, I'd turn this into a song. But here's the long and short of it:

Those reindeer, the ones that hang around behind the Mudcat Tavern, they're the third string group hired by a contractor who works for me out of necessity (too many places to visit on my own any more). That group is a little hung over right now and they refused to head to your side of the planet. Something about the essence of permafrost in their veins will boil at your current temperatures.

So we've devised a little plan. This group of reindeer may be lushes, but they're fairly creative when they're hungover sober. They hauled out an old Trebuchet leftover from a television series filmed in Washington and set in Alaska. Said it managed to lob an upright grand piano across a field so it should manage this (relatively) tiny little package for you. They got out their pocket calculators and their slide rules (some are old school) and calculated that based upon the shape, weight, and wrapping of the package, plus the angle, the resistance and the thin air, they can lob this thing up over the equator and hit your property pretty easily. I've asked them to miss the house and don't bounce it off the car or they'll break all of the glass.

Yours truly,

Santa