. . . 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.
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.
ReplyDeleteJust 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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