Dear Scratchy Claws,

My name is Truck and I'm 10 years old according to my spouse. Bring her some coal.

For me, I would like the following:

Continued reverse dilution. (Easy one Santa)

A mill manager that can find his arse without the use of both hands, a road map, GPS and an Army Ranger Recon team in support.

Gerardo finds more stuff under the trees.

Drill results > 8 gpt gold equiv.

Insider buying >200K per go. It's on sale.

Small scale share buyback later in the year. It's called Optics, Santa. It's on sale.

Revamped, super duper website and IR type stuff. Regular messages from the Big Chiefs a la FDR's fireside chats.

Commercial production and at least the next year of production without the mill xsplodin.

A wee tiny dividend declared later in the year. Doesn't have to be much, would make us one of only 2 TSX-V mining stocks to pay same. Would pop us up on every stock screener worldwide. It's that optics thing agin, Santy.

5 million in production this coming year at least.

Balanced budget legislation and a 3% VAT for our American cousins. Poof. Problem solved.

World peace. (They get a little harder as we go along Mr. Claus)

OR:

A new table saw, as I seem to have pooched mine by leaving it outside for months at a time over the past 15 years. Can you handle that one Santa?

Oh, and make that dang cat stop gettin me into stocks that are more like a murder mystery than, I don't know, a murder mystery.

Don't forget that lump of coal for me spouse. I'll put it twixt her jaws and, in due course, I will have a diamond. I will give it to her to stop increasin the honeydoes list. Scouts honour.

That's it for now Santa.

Truck.