. . . and here we are at Monday at again.
Yesterday's class went well, I think, I hope, and now today I need to buckle down and deal with that shopping stuff I was supposed to do on Saturday but didn't. Blah. So: groceries, downtown, etc. While I'm at it, I might even brave Commercial Street and go to the fish market.
I also have a stack of cards to fill out and send; because while I was teaching, Tom was printing his annual Christmas card, always a photo of his own, usually of the sort to make my cousins go Huh? when they receive it. But huh? is the definition of festive in the Potter-Birtwistle stronghold. After all, a photo of Elvis cut out of the newspaper in 1987 always adorns the top of our full-sized trees. (He is, as little James once pointed out, a star.) This year, because our tree is tiny, we must be content with Tin-Foil Man and a small rubber King Kong. But a clay armadillo with a broken tail has joined the Nativity scene, so huh? continues to reign.
2 comments:
Your adoring public wants to know the back story of the clay armadillo, and how it might feel being transported to a birthing chamber in the Middle East.
Just sayin'.
Armadillo dates from the early 90s, when I was an editorial assistant for an educational publisher in Providence. My boss, the senior editor, gave me a clay armadillo she'd made as a comic Christmas present. It was a reference to a particularly stupid line in a supplemental reading text that had been tormenting us: "The armadillo is a crawling joke." Since then the armadillo has held pride of place on my tree, but being clay, it's rather heavy. So this year I decided to introduce it to the Holy Family, and it fits right in.
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