Another Interesting Evening
Sunday, December 17, 2006
So the second holiday party had ended, and Collette was finally able to pull herself up late out of bed at 6:17 the next morning.
It was the sort of wonderful gray day that stayed gray and cool all day long. At church, it was OLeif’s and Collette’s last time to teach Sunday School for awhile – their first break in two years of supervising younglings from 9:15 to 10:15 every Sunday morning.
After OLeif had explained to the kids that it would be their last Sunday School before the new year, Red Blunt raised both arms in the air, saying,
“Yay! No more boring stories!”
Collette hardly noticed the comment, as most of the kids had been undisciplined that day anyway. The things they would say just to get a reaction…
Meanwhile, Rosemary had also left Christmas gifts for all the Sunday School teachers – homemade strawberry jam.
“Yum! Toast and jam,” OLeif rubbed his tummy in anticipation of breakfast the next morning.
And Ashley-Sue had made it back for the holidays from Dallas, wearing a fancy new red dress, white fur-lined sweater, and red velvet shoes – remnants, perhaps, of her recent European excursion.
During the beginning of the service, Collette was surprised (along with the rest of the office staff) by being called to the front of the church, one at a time, to receive a gift card to Carrabba’s in appreciation for their work at the office during the year. It was only slightly embarrassing being recognized in front of the entire congregation during a worship service, but c’est la vie. And it was very thoughtful of them.
After church, OLeif treated Collette out to lunch at Red Robin (seeing as Carrabba’s was not open till three) and they spent the afternoon over a movie at home. Meanwhile, Rose informed Collette that she and Joe would not be attending the Christmas dinner that night. Joe was still not feeling back to normal, and Rose apparently had a rash on her face.
Collette had also decided to pick up reading Quo Vadis again that weekend, and decided that she liked the first version better, both translated from the Polish in 1897, but still distinctly different when finally put out on the page.
Quiet weekends… but Christmas was coming, and there were still many celebrations ahead for the coming weekend. Who knew how many, when all was said and done.
Then it was off to the Saint’s for the senior high youth Christmas dinner. Joe and Rose were, of course, not present. Augustus was also sick. But there was still a hefty crowd who came, including all four Saints, Jeremiah and Freja Toast, OLeif and Collette, Ben-Hur, Olive Circles, Susie and Sunrise, Molly, a new kid – Jefferson Cheese, Samantha Bee, and Nacchianti. After dinner and games, Judah also dropped by after a very long Sunday (with his accordion).
He seemed rather tired after such a long day, but the accordion came out to warm up before caroling, and almost immediately, little Donald began to dance – a dance of bobbing up and down (almost in rhythm, sometimes) to the happy tunes. So he became the center of entertainment until it was time to leave.
Soon, the three-car caravan drove over to sing two carols for the Hatchs. Their stay was quickly pulled to a close after a rousing three choruses of Go, Tell it on the Mountain.
“And one more, before they catch pneumonia,” Judah hollered over the singing.
“That was the shortest caroling job I’ve ever done,” Jefferson laughed, as he piled back into OLeif’s car with Molly and Susie.
This was not only Jefferson’s first experience with the senior high youth group. It was also his first time to be introduced to the magical world of Burl Ives.
“A one-way trip to crazy town,” Molly chuckled, on the way there.
But Jefferson didn’t complain, and laughed at The Lollipop Tree and various other original or unoriginal tunes.
The evening ended shortly later after nine, but not before everyone had gathered their white elephant gifts, including a pair of OLeif’s old shoes for Molly.
“As to verses, they have disgusted me, since Nero is writing an epic. Vitelius, seest though, when he wishes to relieve himself, uses ivory fingers to thrust down his throat; others serve themselves with flamingo feathers steeped in olive oil or in a decoction of wild thyme. I read Nero’s poetry, and the result is immediate. Straightway I am able to praise it, if not with a clear conscience, at least with a clear stomach.”
– Petronius, Quo Vadis