Christmas Miracle

My family just boarded a transcontinental airplane and I still don't have the Christmas ham! Or such was the situation 5 minutes ago. It comes as no surprise to learn that I have left dinner preparations to Christmas Eve. At 4:30pm, unsure even if the butcher was open, I popped out the door, strode down the street, and crept through the meatsmith's faux-snow freckled door. The racks stood empty. Some lonely pepperoni sat in a fridge. Things looked grim indeed. "Hello?" called the butcher. "Ham," I replied. "Ham for whom?" inquired the man. "For the family," I said, cringing anticipatorily. "You're in luck! We just got a call 2 minutes ago: a cancellation."

Giant leg of ham = MINE!

It's times like this, I'm almost tempted to believe in Santa Clause.