Dear Abby: Leaping in Liverpool

Dear Abby,

I am so totally freaking out!

I was at your festival last year, and I loved the Twelve Days of Christmas. Sure, the music is nice, but it was being a Lord-a-Leaping that really made my day. As I'd feel that wintry air whipping around me, my sensibly booted-feet first leaving the frozen ground and then thumping solidly into it, I'd know the meaning of the word joy. Now, I hear that the days are about to be assigned and I am so totally freaking out. What if I don't get to be a Lord-a-Leaping? What if Christmas is a black, cold, grounded place? What can I do?

Cheerfully,

Leaping in Liverpool

Dear Leaping,

My, my, my. Aren't we enthusiastic about that wonderful song? Good for you, I say. Way to embrace all that Christmas spirit. I do not think you need fret at all. If I were you, I would just check in and ask for what you want. If you do it within a reasonable time-frame, I think it likely that you shall find yourself quite well accommodated. Just as when Mr. F insists that he would like to eat Yankee Pot Roast for dinner, if he gives me enough notice, that roast hits the table at suppertime. It is only when I have already prepared a whole chicken that his request becomes unwieldy, and unattainable.

Send a note to kellyjstallard (at) gmail (dot) com about your problem, and I am certain we can figure something out. You have until five o'clock in the evening on Friday!

Best of luck, and we shall see you at my mid-day revel!

-APF