Santa might have been a few days late in getting to our house, but he sure knew what to stuff our stockings with! For Kris-the-Musician there was a slide whistle and a Jew’s harp (if you feel the need to be politically correct and aren’t bothered by historical accuracy you could call it a ‘mouth harp’). For Nyel-the-head cook, a chef’s toque, a sheriff’s badge, and a Santa hat and, for me, golden garters and finger cymbals and a book about Uppity Women Speak Their Minds.
There were also wind-up toys – a monkey, a frog, and a tiger – and chocolate and a very practical (but strange) lemon or orange juicer from Jack’s housewares department as well as a set of pick-up sticks and a book of Sherlock Holmes puzzles. Oh! And did I mention the fancy plastic red and green light up rings suitable for all occasions? We all thought Santa had hit the mark for each of us and immediately formed an orchestra complete with an exotic dancer (that would be me.)
The first page I flipped to in my Uppity book was about Florence Nightingale who (apparently famously) said, Not even a doctor…gives any other definition of what a nurse should be other than…’devoted and obedient’…This definition might even do for a horse. Definitely words to live by, doncha think?
All in all, the wait for Santa Claus was well worth it! And the day went happily downhill from there.