Merry Christmas

Christmas Eve is here. Finally the crown jewel in an over month long rush of shopping and wrapping and rushing around and beating that woman with your umbrella to grab that very last Wii on the shelf. Also an end to a string of Christmas parties to catch up with old friends and make many new ones. Some new friends are made that maybe would never have even said "Hello" as you shoved your overstuffed buggy in front of them at Wal-Mart, but now in the season of good will and good cheer became your best buddy in the corner by the spinach pastries and even shared the very last one.

We have a friend that throws a Christmas bash every year. He fills his house with dozens of his co-workers and colleagues who all have great big brains. And, also, every year, he invites us.
Now this is a very dear friend who would be tremendously crushed if we opted not to attend. So, although, I don’t reside in the world of multiple Doctorates and pocket protectors and blue spikey hair, I put on my very best Santa Claus sweater every year and dive into the crowd of swirling, huge brains.

This year as my husband was having a wonderful time sharing several glasses of spiced wine with a group of rocket scientists, I meandered over through the den and had a seat near the candles. A very nice lady came and sat by me and began trying her very best to be my friend.
She asked what department I worked in and what disease had I recently cured. I told her I was simply a neighbor. And I sold real estate. For money.

Her eyes grew wide and she grabbed a pen and pad out of her sweater and leaned toward me with great interest in my species.

"You say your are a neighbor? That is why you are here? You have never invented anything?"
I nodded to her questions and had the feeling that I was being inspected like a very special lab rat. This made me feel very important, and I sat taller in my chair. She offered me a plate of cheese.

She asked me some more questions about life on the outside. And as some of her students overheard, they gathered round and they became my friends, too. I sat very tall. I felt very popular. They gave me more cheese.

I finished my glass of wine and showed them how I could navigate through tables and chairs and poinsettias without getting lost. They all were awed with my prowess. And they all had the need for bigger houses.

As I steered the conversation to financing, one lady told me how she had purchased a new car. She said it was perfect for carrying her centrifuge around. Wasn’t it a problem when one’s car did not accommodate your centrifuge?

I gasped at such a problem and told her that unfortunately I did not own a centrifuge. Seeing her sympathetic look, I told her it was okay. I rarely needed to spin plasma, and I was saving up my pennies to buy a new particle accelerator in the near future. That was more important to me. If ever I needed to blast some electrons, the particle accelerator was much more handy than a centrifuge. She nodded her head vigorously up and down with great understanding.

We both drank more wine and agreed I would share my atom blaster if she would let me spin plasma when I needed. She gave me more cheese. The Doctor took more notes. I knew I was having an evening unlike any other and was having an absolutely wonderful time.

And as the evening began drawing to an end, the concert pianist, who was the 9th cousin of Beethoven, cracked his knuckles and began pounding out Christmas tunes. And we all gathered round, and we all joined hands, and we all raised our voices together. Because no matter what our differences, we were all really the same, and we all were now friends, and it was the season of cheer. My new friend handed me one last piece of cheese and I handed her the last glass of mulled wine. Because the cauldron was empty, but our hearts were full. And my new friend had nipped the piece of cheese just for me, because I was her friend......and it was the very last one.

From my house to your’s, a very Merry Christmas.