Is your tree real or artificial? And is this real cynicism or artificial? You can't beat the smell of real cynicism during the holidays.

If you MUST play your little drum, well, then just go ahead and get it over with. I'm waiting for you to Hark! And tell us about that time you heard hear the Hell's Angels sing.

Wayne, it's a real live tree, imported from afar! And no artificial ingredients in sight.

pcb, my policy is not to Hark! in public. Over the internet, sure, but not in public.

Tweedle dee and tweedle dum will fall out too,
hey, that guy has the same forehead curl problem.

What's Beatrice think of the Christmas tree? Has she climbed it yet, or it too small for that?

... or IS it too small for that ...

Do you have a Norfolk pine?

remember to water it often, esp. if you have a cat. it's the new drinking bowl. congrats!

Another Tidewater vignette. Christmas Trees: for six years I lived in Ghent apartments with a Kinkajou (honey bear). They never come down from the treetops in South America, where they were believed to be spirit/gods, and like to spend the night climbing along the top woodwork with their real, tiny, hands and prehensile tails. So what to do about the Christmas tree? After Kinky's first jump into its scratchiness, there had to be some type of accommodation. So the tree was hung from the ceiling on the hook made for chandeliers; problem solved. And my life is so fantastically rich that I had forgotten all about this epidsode.
And recently someone asked about it. (Apparently, there is a hint abroad that I am a ha ha eccentric.)
Once, Kinky was playing on the window screen (third floor, left), and fell out with it. I ran down and could not find her anywhere. I asked and asked around, including the neighborhood children, who seemed to be gathered in groups much more so than usual. No, they shuffled, had never heard of or seen such a creature. Finally a confession from one. They had all been visiting her at her new home in the next block, an identical building, third floor left. She had found an identical apartment, rushing across the floor and grabbing a young girl ironing around the leg. Said girl immediately gave her a bath and pink ribbon and a place on the closet top shelf. Kinky was not anxious to leave her new crowds of admirers. (Paris Hilton had one a few years back and you need her staff and income for this pet. Not advised.)

You have a Christmas Tree?

And a cat?

You brave man.

What are you doing for the fairy? Or has Bernice decided that one for you?

This kinkajou lived in Ghent section of Norfolk, Virginia, and not near Belgium. (See future Wally postings.)