Generosity of Soul: Dragging through it all

Feel like a stuffed Robotic Santy this year?

I guess so many of us go through the gifting and visits by rote, and it all used to be fun. A bottle of Chianti and a candle stuck in a Chianti empty was all we younger people needed to get the party started way back when...music, though! Music gets you into some sort of adjusted feeling of belonging, even when you are old and grey.

I can't stand Chianti on my tum these days, and I don't eat turkey, or stuffing that has been in it. In fact, I'm vegetarian and I never bother whining away about getting what is traditional. A few cranberries and some delicious and fancy hors d'ouevres or sweets really cheer a person up a bit, though, anytime.

At left and above, I decided to show you the life-size Santa I found down south in the US a few years ago. Santa I do not need, either, but it is interesting to note that the legend must have been built upon a reality of gentle travellers, who could not resist gifting the kids of each village, nor donating purses to those in need.

I discovered Holly trees that were fifty feet high in southern US, so magnificent, really; they were rich with very fresh berries, since the climate is so much milder than in Ontario. We tripped around in just shoes and light jackets, instead of facing 16 degree below weather and snow.

Not only Holly grew in Kentucky, USA, but I found, to my amazement, that clumps of Mistletoe (an air plant that grows on trees like Orchids) clung above my head in half a dozen spots where my husband and I were visiting. So, kiss someone under this (shown at right):

Oh, I do feel a bit sour and maudlin this time of year, but I love to travel, anyway!! I like the gifting part because I love my family.

Giving Lots!

A member of my family sent me a great link as a "card". I appreciated this so much, because the Christmas Jukebox had a collection of really classic retro songs on it:

You can find this on: Heavens Gates, A Fifties Christmas Jukebox.

Link here to play the songs (great cartoons, too) http://heavens-gates.com/50s/50s_christmas.html

There, squeeeeze, (associated sounds of phishing for last dime stuck in bottom of green shopping bag) I gave to you and yours! Wasn't hard!

Laughing Lots!

Just thought I'd add a Night Before Christmas Poem I made (like a zillionteen others on the net) in case you found it amusing.........

A Doctors' Christmas Eve

'Twas the night before Christmas,When, 'pon top of the house,

There seemed to be restlessness-could be a mouse (?)
It couldn't be the family,

They were neat as a pin,

Surely, mice were too educated to ever get in…
Still, something rumbled, it crunched and repeatedly sounded,

As carols and bells through the night air resounded…
On top of the roof there stood someone quite bulky,

Took a look with the laser,

Must admit I'm a bit sulky..
Only two hours off this year, then its' back to the lab,

This had better be fruitful,or that visitors' on a slab!
(Note: The stockings were hung from the mantle with care-

All their toes had a star,

So we could look after the dears.

Wee nursies at night, they could take a quick peek-

Are the children all well,

Is each one asleep?)
There - on the roof, stood a dirty old hippie,

A nose obviously sprung from F.A.S., not so pretty!

A belly that groaned with intense, obese strain,

And frost upon frost on the senile old brain.
The old boy had lived upon Schnapps and fruitcake,

And the stink as he farted could make the ground quake.
At once, I remembered the Hippiecratic oath,

And I called 911 to get rid of the oaf.
I repeated my Doctors annotations to reception,

And all they could say was,

Must be your epileption,
Why, Doctor, they complained, in great disbelief,

How could there be a man on your roof- Oh, good grief!

And his dress is all red, you say, (Have ye had too much cheer?)

And, don't you forget, sir, to take your pills this year!
Have you forgotten? -Why, a great sack, you say?

We've no room for obscenity, to you, sir, a good day!
911 cut me off, and ,in fear, I imagined,

The weird old creation above shoved his bag in.
Quick! The children!

How could he?

Why, bats poo on rooves!

Quick boil all the soot, and the soles of their hooves,

And that man-must be crazy-all clean- das is goot!
But, I must be hallucinating,(Must be my patients)

There are deer on the roof too, (A condition that's latent?)
He has called them by name, so strange and bizarre,

Saying "on Donner, On, Blitzen,"

"Fly, Rudolph, and Bonghead, and Cutie, and Vixen"
Poor old soul must be saying,

From unimaginable dendritic tangles,

Why he's chosen the roof,

Where his dementia rangles,
Donner means "done, eh?"

From the blitzen of drugs,

And Rudolph, his old friend,

From a tough gang of thugs?
That vixen from the twenties,

He remembers her well,

But I'm sure she's departed

and now he's IN HELL.
Where's my kit,one more client-

There's no time to lose!It's back to the grind and on wi' my shoes!
I gathered (much later) and really, how quaint,

That he carried toys for children,calling himself a saint.

Santa Claus was his name,

And he muttered "Saint Nick"
Note to self:Check the ground for some tainted oil slick.

Perhaps it's from Russia,

Then again, from a cat,

But there must be some truth to this schiz-Fancy that!
Morning broke,Christmas Day,

And the kiddies were fine,

But Dad suffered hypothermia, and haematoma, this time.
Ah, me(said the Doctor)

Anything for the kids,

But he slunk (cause he stunk from last night) onto the skids.
He skied and he wailed

For a full week, to say,

I love you, dear children,(Though Daddys' away)
You'll always be well,

That's my present to you,

And there'll be no more hippies.

I'll swear that, to you.
We'll take little Santa And study him - parfait,

And then Happy New Year to the dear-Take 'im away!

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