We were looking at animals for a baby and an almost-baby we'll see tomorrow. I swooned over a lemur and an elephant and an ostrich. RDC frowned when he saw more of the ostrich than its generic head. "I thought it was a vulture," he said, "It's ecologically sound for when the other stuffed animals die."
When I put my grandmother's clip-on koala to the tree, I remembered mine, mouldering among other keepsakes. Today I added another koala and two raccoons. (I figure they're arboreal and like being in Yule trees even though they don't sparkle.) I noticed my koala's off hind leg was about to fall off. RDC suggested, "We can have it for dinner."
I am married to Ebenezer Scrooge.
I decided to make like Linus van Pelt (or Emily Blair) and read the Christmas stories as given severally and contradictorily in the gospels. Fifteen of the first 16 verses of Matthew are begats, the generation of Jesus Christ, ending with "And Jacob begat Joseoph the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ."
Why is Joseph counted in the genealogy of Jesus, no matter how good a stepfather he was?
I have been sneaking snorts of buddy fluff. Often when he's preening and facing away, I can get my nose into his breast for a sniff or two before he notices and beaks me. He's in a forgiving mood today, I guess: he was on my shoulder and I had my nose in his shoulder joint and my lips against his breast for a couple of minutes and he just let me. I really doubt basset hounds smell as good.
If I got up at midnight to see, it would be very bad luck to spot him genuflecting. It would also scare the piss out me, because cockatiels don't have knees.
I first typoed "kneeds." Ha! Cockatiels have plenty of those.