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Remember the girl who received that partridge in a pear tree for Christmas a while back? Even considering her lords a leaping and maids a milking, she's got nothing up on me. Let me tell you about it. Some of it is still under my tree. Yes, my tree is still up. I have trouble letting go.
On the first day of Christmas I got a star in the universe. A real one. The star is named "Allan and Sue Orsen" and numbered 075-667. It has a celestial address and is copyrighted and permanently recorded in the Star Record Book "with all rights and privileges attended thereto." I expect to swing from it some day.
On the second day of Christmas I got 2 pairs of slippers. I've been sporting one pair at a time. I love them. Forgive my incorrect use of the word "love," but slippers do that to me.
On the third day of Christmas I got 3 gift certificates to the Victoria House, specifically designated to "jump start the Literary Society." Others have apparently noticed that chicken fingers and fries go well with prose and poetry.
On the fourth day of Christmas I got a 4-level waterfall to relieve perceived anxiety. Official moniker of the contraption: "Tabletop Relaxation Fountain Envirascape Water Steps." The fountain trickles over polished stones all day and relieves me of more than anxiety.
On the fifth day of Christmas I got 5 boxes of chocolates. They are quite delicious -- the chocolates, I mean. Not the boxes.
On the sixth day of Christmas I got green flannel 6-holed pajamas. You add 'em up: two for the feet, two for the arms, one for the neck, and a back flap that can be opened and closed as necessary.
On the seventh day of Christmas I got 7 e-mail Christmas cards that range in message and character from the sublime to the hilarious. Some are musical, some are funny, some are nice, some are not.
On the eighth day of Christmas I got 8 crystal cordials that match my crystal water and wine and highball glasses. They're as sweet as the peach schnapps and conversation that follow dinners at my big table.
On the ninth day of Christmas I got a 9-pound wave radio/CD that brings me "award winning patented acoustic waveguide speaker technology that enables this tabletop system to produce room-filling sound with full rich bass." That room is my office. Does this issue of the Gazette seem to hold more bass than the previous issues? It should, since it was produced with all the above accompaniment.
On the tenth day of Christmas I got a pair of 10-digit socks. They're like gloves, only you wear them on your feet, and the little pockets at the end are for toes instead of fingers. Strange. Very strange.
On the eleventh day of Christmas I got 11 items in an Emergency Pack which is stocked, as you suspect, with supplies one might use in an emergency. I put the Pack in the trunk of my car. It contains flashlight, batteries, granola bars, beef jerky, waterproof matches, Swiss army knife, candle, bandages, aluminized polyester blanket, disposable warm packs, chapstick, bottled water, first aid kit, brass signal whistle, stocking hat, mittens, and a bunch of quarters for phone calls, not for the casino.
On the twelfth day of Christmas I got an iguana. A rather large one. The papier-mache lizard, which runs in the flesh and in the wild in arid parts of Texas and Mexico, has 12 spiny projections on its back. Eeeek! Inscription on the card reads: "For someone who has everything." Eeek! An iguana!
I got other things that didn't fit in the above categories, but they fit in other places. For example, Padre Pio fits well at my bedside, the perfume goes fragrantly behind my ears, and the roses gracefully adorn the aforementioned dinner table. The calls from my 96-year old chemistry professor (Hi, Sister Edward) and 92-year old former reporter for the Victoria Seniors (Hi, Gladys) filled me with fond recollection of precious days. Other greetings by letter, photo, and card line up perfectly with each other in my Christmas basket. And my turtle dove often coos at my side.
Thank you, one and all, for giving me twelve perfect days of Christmas, my last Christmas of the century and the millennium. Wow. As I said, that girl with the partridge in a pear tree has nothing up on me. -- Sue
DEADLINE
The deadline for the second Gazette of the new millennium is Monday, January 24th. You can send your news to Box 387 in Victoria or call (612) 443-2010. You can also e-mail me, Sue@VictoriaGazette.com. Thank you for thinking of the Gazette.
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