Thursday December 18th, 2014

The exercise:

Write about: the decoration.

I spent most of the morning getting ready for this Saturday's farmers market. Yup, I'm doing the last indoor market of the season in Penticton, despite what I said about being done. It's a combination of things.

The biggest is that I'm going up to give my client the CD of pictures. I'm also going to try to get a few shots of his market table for his website. So there's that.

We also have our usual Christmas order of six boxes of Ambrosia apples that one of our regular customers does every year. I'm bringing those along with me so that she'll have them just in time for giving them to her family as presents.

So, basically, I figured if I'm going up there anyway... I might as well try to sell some more cards and prints while I'm at it. I'm looking at any sales as bonus money, so there's no pressure in that regard.

Although it would still be nice to sell at least a few things so that I'm not crippled with boredom.

Mine:

Hanging from the tree,
It looks around to see
Who is naughty -
And to what degree.

Its watchful eye
Will never ever lie.
Such a happy guy,
This sly Santa spy.

3 Comments:

Greg said...

Have fun at the market! It sounds like a good idea to leverage the time you'd be spending there anyway to get a bit more exposure for what you're doing, and I hope you're not crippled with boredom either. Maybe you can take the laptop and catch up on comments in the slow bits? **ducks**

I like how your version of Santa spies on people! That's quite inspired, and you should use it as the verse inside Christmas cards in order to worry people all the more :)

The decoration
Decoration n. Latin via Old French. Decoration is the genitive of Decoratio, the relationship of ten things to one another, and hence means of, or pertaining to, the relationship of ten things to one another. An edge or corner of a decagon is a decoration, but cubes are not decorative at all. The word was commonly used in Roman households where the serving staff were typically grouped into brigades of ten, and hence every servant was a decoration except during periods of staff turnover. As the Romans were fond of putting members of staff with nothing better to do on their Christmas trees[1][2] the terms gradually came to encompass anything that could be placed on a Christmas tree, so that baubles, tinsel, candles and squirrels are now all correctly referred to as decorative. As are the circumstances of your birth[3].

[1] Romans had Christmas trees but didn't call them such: Yule logs, Saturnalia stumps and Squirrel-holders were all more popular terms
[2] The Romans starved their staff and selected particularly robust Saturnalia stumps for this purpose. What you call a Christmas tree they'd call "a disaster waiting to happen"
[3] Yes, this is a reference to your mother and nine other people. I'm a dictionary, I know these things

David said...

A warped Christmas tale....my apologies in advance

Malcolm wrapped himself in strands of lights. That was step one. The lights must always go on first. Then the ornaments. Lovingly placed upon the limbs. He skipped this step. His nose ring was in, as were his two hoop earrings. They would do as adornment. Tinsel was the final decoration. His mother preferred silver garland. His father popcorn strands. Malcolm could do without either, he never wished to choose sides. He preferred the simplicity of wispy metallic strands of tinsel. He had none. And this bothered him. A tree without tinsel seemed naked. And he without tinsel would also be off. Although he was indeed naked. The star. Should he top himself off with a star, he wondered. Or perhaps a crown of thorns. No that was more Easterly. And he had no interest in a three day resurrection. Malcolm found the plug. He felt the lights against his wet skin. All the better to conduct the current. Across his entire body. Malcolm closed his eyes and thought of Christmas past, he refused to think of any Christmas future. He pressed the prongs to the outlet. Inserted it. Goodbye cruel….zap zap and zilch. The lights flickered once. Malcolm looked down. Still in Christmas present. The strands wrapped to around his body, unlit. Malcolm gave a big Christmas sigh, the kind one has when they know the parents will soon be there. Christmas miracle one might say. But others would know the truth. It is always one light that shorts out. And now Malcolm would need to inspect each bulb.

Marc said...

Greg - I did end up bringing the laptop (to show him the pictures) but there wasn't a wireless connection available, unfortunately.

Hah! I quite like your Christmas card idea. I shall have to remember that for next year.

That may possibly be my all time favorite dictionary entry from you. The footnotes are just... perfect.

David - hahaha, oh my. No apologies required. Good lord those final three lines are just brilliant. Darkly brilliant, but brilliant all the same :D