The Twelve Days of Christmas -- Hewlett-Style /
Imagine the following, sung beautifully by...I don't know...Andrea Bocelli, or something.
Accompanied by my father on violin,
myself on a rusty trumpet,
and two identical twin six-year-olds on a piano that hasn't been tuned in 25 years.
That's how this song plays out in my food-coma-induced imaginings.
Ready for it?
(NOTE: When forced to choose, I opted for rhyming over logic.)
On the first day of Christmas, the Hewletts gave to me: a nut loaf instead of cooked meat.
On the second day of Christmas, the Hewletts gave to me: two twins I love and a nut loaf instead of cooked meat.
On the third day of Christmas, the Hewletts gave to me: three french sticks, two twins I love and a nut loaf instead of cooked meat.
On the fourth day of Christmas, the Hewletts gave to me: four (but one in particular) sibling nerds, three french sticks, two twins I love and a nut loaf instead of cooked meat.
On the fifth day of Christmas, the Hewletts gave to me: fiiiiiive coooold drinks,
four sibling nerds, three french sticks, two twins I love and a nut loaf instead of cooked meat.
On the sixth day of Christmas, the Hewletts gave to me: six nieces playing (well...only two, actually, but "niece" rhymes with "geese" and that's hard to pass up.)
Where was I...
Oh yes.
The sixth day of--wait a second, who the hell celebrates Christmas for twelve days? I would gain twelve hundred pounds and get paper cuts from all the present-opening. I just think it's weird. TWELVE DAYS? And who needs that many birds as presents?
But more importantly...
Six nieces playing, fiiiiiive coooold drinks, four sibling nerds, three french sticks, two twins I love and a nut loaf instead of cooked meat.
On the...wait for it...seventh day of Christmas, the Hewletts gave to me: seven lawns a-swimming (because it rained -- give me a break), six nieces playing, fiiiiiive coooold drinks, four sibling nerds, three french sticks, two twins I love and a nut loaf instead of cooked meat.
On the eighth (freakin') day of (eternal) Christmas, the Hewletts gave to me: eight soybeans milking, seven lawns a-swimming (see above apology), six nieces playing, fiiiiiive coooold drinks, four sibling nerds, three french sticks, two twins I love and a nut loaf instead of cooked meat.
On the ninth...
Small break while I get a glass of wine to give me the strength to continue this...
In-breath, out-breath, in-breath, out-breath...
On the ninth day of Christmas, the Hewletts gave to me: nine cold pills chancing (and if that doesn't make sense, I blame the Sudafed), eight soybeans milking, seven lawns a-swimming, six nieces playing, fiiiiiive coooold drinks, four sibling nerds, three french sticks, two twins I love and a nut loaf instead of cooked meat.
On the tenth day of Christmas, the Hewletts gave to me: ten stuffed guests sleeping, nine cold pills chancing, eight soybeans milking, seven lawns a-swimming, six nieces playing, fiiiiiive coooold drinks, four sibling nerds, three french sticks, two twins I love and a nut loaf instead of cooked meat.
On the (allllmost there, people) eleventh day of Christmas, the Hewletts gave to me: eleven Skypers Skype-ing, ten stuffed guests sleeping, nine cold pills chancing, eight soybeans milking, seven lawns a-swimming, six nieces playing, fiiiiiive coooold drinks, four sibling nerds, three french sticks, two twins I love and a nut loaf instead of cooked meat.
On the TWELFTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS, the Hewletts gave to me: twelve plumbers plumbing (not true, but it rhymes), eleven Skypers Skype-ing, ten stuffed guests sleeping, nine cold pills chancing, eight soybeans milking, seven lawns a-swimming, six nieces playing, fiiiiiive coooold drinks, four sibling nerds, three french sticks, two twins I love and a nut loaf instead of cooked meat.
I am done.
Merry Christmas!
I still need to do a post about my trip to Italy, which was a complete bust. All that and more...soon...
k.