What?! Another Party?!

I can’t believe it.  It’s another Yule party.  This is the one that the mortals’ church staff has every year.  It varies.  It used to be a potluck.  The last few years it’s been upstairs at a pizzeria.  Tonight it’s at a local restaurant.  Sigyn and I have tagged along.  Church and churchy people make me nervous, but Sigyn likes the whole deal, so I’m going to make sure she doesn’t get lost in the crowd and has a good time.

Odin’s eyepatch!  “Crowd” was right!  This place is sardinified!  There’s barely room to move around, and even the humans say they don’t know half the people here.  Who knew there were so many volunteers, interns, campus ministers, visiting missionaries, and so on?  I shan’t bother trying to learn their names.  It’s not as if one could hear an actual conversation in here anyway–the noise of chatter is deafening.

Looks like there is going to be a random gift exchange again this year.  Last year we had all the good presents–and they were all stolen from us.

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Sigyn thinks this parcel looks “friendly”.  I say, with that red nose it’s highly likely that Old Santy has been at the wine already. (There does seem to be a good bit of wine on offer.)

Let us peruse the menu:

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The human female is ordering what is basically a tarted-up chicken parm.  She’s so boring.

I must say, although we are a bit cramped now that we are all seated and though it is still noisy, this is a nice place.  Sigyn is making friends with the salt shaker.

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Dearest, just because it has a cute little “body” and a little “head” doesn’t mean it’s alive and capable of holding a conversation.

But at least it’s glassware she has no chance of getting trapped in!

Ah!  Nosh-itizers!

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The toasted bread is nice, but the smashy olive goop, unfortunately, tastes of olives.  No one at the table is liking this except the one woman who is an olive fiend.  Here, you can have ours!

The salads have arrived.  The human male is less than enthusiastic.

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Seeing as how he loathes both mushrooms and olives.

The gift-draw has commenced.  Our table-mate has received this lovely tree.

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Sigyn? Do you want me to steal it?  Just say the word, and I will, even if it isn’t our turn to pick a present.

The main course is arriving, and the gift-draw continues. The humans have just opened up a parcel which has turned out to be lottery tickets.

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The temptation to scratch them off and see if I’ve won anything, and then hide any winning cards so they don’t get stolen, is pretty strong.

Ooo!  Dessert!  Sigyn is all about strawberry cheesecake.

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The humans had the lottery tickets stolen from them.  The human male ended up with something completely lame and traded it, post-exchange, for a handy cell-phone charger caddy thingie.

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Except that it turns out not to charge anything.  It’s just a place to plunk phones, with their charging cords hanging out the back.  Feel pretty silly now, don’t you, mortal?

At least he didn’t get the calendar with photos of dogs pooping or the enormous jar of pickles. No one wanted those.

And there you have it.  Food eaten, gifts exchanged, ho ho ho and Good Yule to all.  Time to go home where it is quiet and spacious.  Easy-peasy.

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Now, if I can just convince Sigyn that it is now all right to let the prize ticket go…

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