Luscious balls and blown-glass pickles.
10.22.02 - 9:34 p.m. I am covered in a fine dusting of gold glitter from the various and sundry ornaments hearby hung on this day. The tree which I had been working on, last night and half of today, contained ornaments labelled 'Old World', 'Balls' and 'Luscious Balls'. I declined to comment, partially because every oracle-like thing I have consulted for the poast two days has cautioned discretion in word-choice. Furthermore, I had 36 blown-glass, old world pickles to hang. It seems there is a Christmas tradition called 'hide the pickle', in which a pickle ornament is hidden in the tree, and whoever finds it gets a special present. This amused me for reasons which will be terribly obvious to some, who may be also quite amused. And someone else may be getting one of these charming baubles for Christmas, since my work does UPS. Apparently, I also have a full chorus of Privateer Press writers and artists in my head, who submitted many ideas for stories and comic strips while I be-decked a tree with glass snowmen, contemplated the relationship between Writer and Reader, and slowly went insane. Anyway. They are planning on making me post a number of columns and articles in Quois, if I ever again have time to sit down and Write Creatively for a stretch in front of this infernal contraption. But Fox's Computer Delerium has just moved in /and/ has an ethernet card, so that might be easier, very soon. Let us pray.
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