October 2nd, 2003

Santa Lucia, Ritual, _schools16931


All the wassailing tonight reminds me of a particular party.

So our family was in the habit of throwing absolutely awesome Solstice parties. There were kids playing all over the upstairs, a potluck supper, music and caroling downstairs, and generally we kids would stage an Entertainment.

This particular year, we had chickens. The pet kind, in a coop outside. Mama told us girls sternly that we were not to go out and get any birds and bring them in, not even Calico and Aurora, because there were some co-workers of FatherSir's, and the one guy's wife was fastidious, and chickens in the house would not be a good plan.

swallowtayle and I were disappointed, but agreed.

The party was going strong, and I was perched downstairs with the grownups when I saw FatherSir put on his boots and red down vest and slip outside. I perked up my ears, because the way he was leaving made it clear to me that he was sneaking, and when he was sneaking, he was Up To Something. I kept an eye on the door, and sure enough, when he returned, he crept up the stairs with a lump under his red down vest.

I followed.

To much delight, FatherSir had brought Miss Aurora Fayoumis, the lovelier and more refined of our two Egyptian Fayoumi, and we petted her and made much of her. FatherSir sat her in state on a pillow from Mama's side of the bed, and we were having quite the time (and Miss A. was behaving herself perfectly, lying upright on the pillow as a particularly regal cat might) when Mama came upstairs.

Of course, swallowtayle and I got the initial "I thought I told you..." lecture, and when there was a break in it, I informed Mama, "But we didn't! FatherSir brought her in!" Mama cross-checked with FatherSir, and it was just so: FatherSir hadn't heard Mama's initial lecture about no chickens in the house for this party...

Fortunately, Aurora was a calm lady by temperament, and remained well-behaved for the duration of the party, even with the crowd, and Mrs. H. was charmed with her unhenlike serenity.
  • Current Mood
running, bomb tech


There's a sort of merry war betwixt Darkside and me regarding endearments. I call him deer; he says he's not got four feet and antlers. I call him moose. I call him honey; I get corrected; I call him bee vomit. I call him sweetheart; he tells me he's not sweet.

Today, when I was corrected, I described him as dried pickled cactus instead. He said that that was about right.

I babbled about networking, about getting back in contact with Kermit, child-rearing fun happy stuff.

I'm glad he's there.

I'm getting the feeling that nothing will progress until I ask him the question that Byron pointed out. The time was almost right, but he had to go...

...Perhaps I can ask tomorrow.
running, bomb tech


I'm the Queen of Bad Timing. Darkside's the King of No Time.

He agreed that these fit each of us...
running, bomb tech


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