The Day After Christmas Blog Post -- Happy Birthday, Jesus; Rubber Vultures; and Getting It On with Dom Perignon

Yes, that is a rubber vulture. He's poised atop my hpdeskjet to the left of my desk. I'm quite fond of him; his name is "Edgar." This was one of the (many) Christmas presents I received from He Who Swings Cats By Their Tails, and I think it's my favorite. I mean, I love the complete boxed set of Patrick O'Brien Aubrey-Maturin novels, and both H.P. Lovecraft reference books, but those are pretty tame compared to a 17-inch rubber vulture.

This ranks right up there with my (liquid latex) corpse head from a few Christmases back (visible in the "messy desk" pic on December 23rd). He had that one shipped to his office.

He Who: Look what I got my wife for Christmas (displays corpse head).
Innocent co-worker: ...
He Who: She's gonna LOVE this!
Innocent co-worker: (flees break room)

All in all, we had a pretty good, quiet Christmas. I'm not supposed to blog about the Christmas turkey. Let's just say that We've Made More Expensive Mistakes and that Cooking a Turkey is a Learning Process. Most of it was edible. The green bean casserole and mashed potato gratin were very good, and we have leftovers. I might make the turkey tetrazinni today. Or not. I'm feelin' mighty lazy and it's my last day of a four-day weekend. Doing laundry and sewing a button back on the winter coat might be the extent of my "work" for the day. All else is play.

We took a bottle of Dom Perignon over to Jim and Terri's for Christmas Eve to share with them and Christopher and Shannon. The brochure packed with the bottle was interesting. I would love to scan it in, in order to show the photos, but I'll just titillate you with the text for now:

Dom Perignon matured in the champagne cellars of Epernay for seven years to express its mysterious magnetism: intense, sophisticated sensuality, and a seamless, creamy flow, for the first sensation to the last, that seems to go on forever...

On the palate, the sensation is one of diving into a wave: a satiny textures curls and unfurls on the palate, embracing and caressing it. An instant of weightlessness, matter vanishes, the finish vibrates, the taste buds are aroused by a controlled ardour. The persistance is remarkable with just the slightest undertone of tartness (citrus zest and buds).

I don't know about you, but I feel like I need to smoke a cigarette after that.