Getting in touch with my German heritage, I put my shoes out on the doorstep on the Feast of St. Nicholas, Bishop of Myra (December 6th). If I've been a good boy, Father Christmas will come and leave candy goodies in my shoes . . . not that it's particularly appetizing to eat anything you find in your old shoes, but it's the thought that counts.
Well, something must've gone wrong. When I peeked out the front door this morning, not only could I not find candy, I couldn't find my shoes either. At least there were no beatings or lumps of coal waiting for me. I'm sure Old Saint Nick was off stamping out heresies or helping someone in distress. Passen die Hazelnussomeletten und Apfel Strudel, bitte.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
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2 comments:
I'll make sure you get your beating.
Grrrr. Passen Sie oder Pass. Sorry, I have to do something with my German degree, and picking nits appears to be the only application.
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