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I forgot to mention a lot of work.  But the work didn’t get in the way of all the other good stuff.  My son Adam (AKA Badger) and two of his mates from up north came down for a few days to spend Christmas with me.  All three of the visitors are bachelors, all live alone, and all three had planned to just do some work on their own properties over the holiday break.  Pretty much what I was going to do.  This seemed a much better approach.

We had a ball.  As the title suggests, we ate and laughed and ate and played games and had weighty philosophical discussions, listened to music, and ate and — did I mention there was a lot of food going down?   One of the special treats was that Olivier brought his violin along and provided some great music.  While playing games he got it out and played a musical “thinking interlude” for certain members of the party who tended to take rather a lot of time making their play.

There was a lot of work done as well.  Two-thirds of the visitors have a very strong work imperative, and together with Adam they all did a monumental amount of work on my property.  I mostly just supervised.  And cooked.  It worked well.  The last night they were here we had a bar-b-que and ate out on the deck, admiring the fruits of our labor.  Some of the things we pigged out on were Eggnog, Angel Food Cake with Berries and Cream, Pecan Pie, Fruit Salad, Prime Roast Beef, Chilli and Cornbread and Sangria, Pancakes, Cinnamon Rolls…you get my drift.  I won’t be climbing onto the scales any time soon.  For three bachelors who all live a long way from supplies, it was a feast.

One surprise in the midst of it all was that Peter and Olivier both expressed interest in — wait for it — the Boxing Day sales.  I would rather have a root canal than go anywhere near town during the post-Christmas shopping mayhem.  Adam shared my view.  But both Peter and Olivier clearly wanted to get amongst it, so on Wednesday they worked their buns off clearing some trees for me before lunch, then I tossed them the keys to my car and they headed off to town. They returned later like victorious soldiers, each having found some bargains.  One of the prizes was a ridiculous — but highly effective — water squirter.  Pursuant to an earlier conversation about how to keep the chooks out of my courtyard, Olivier had suggested a squirt gun.  He is the present owner of Louie (AKA Satchmo) the Rooster, you may recall.  Apparently he has found a squirt of water to be an effective means to deter errant chooks.  Anyway, one of his bargains was a squirt gun.

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He bought two — one for himself and one for me.  I have yet to use mine officially, but I did have a little practice shot at nothing this morning and it is perfect:  great distance, but ending in only a sprinkle or spray.  Adam has placed a bucket of water and the “gun” next to the front door so I can quickly “arm” it and shoot at a moment’s notice.  It works like a syringe; you just pull out the handle to suck up the water…What a hoot!

All in all, it was a great Christmas.  That is saying a lot for me, as I don’t usually “do” Christmas.    I should add that I do love Christmases in the northern hemisphere.  At least the traditions there work for me.

Once I move up north, I suspect these little soirées won’t have to wait for Christmas.

This year I didn’t even wear my “Bah! Humbutton.”            MM

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