Cards and stuff

The last days were, unfortunately, not very much devoted to perfumery in the sense of perfume creation. With Christmas approaching much faster than expected, I suddenly faced the fact that a pile of X-mas cards were not written, yet. This had to be corrected this week. For this year’s card, I chose a simple “Merry Christmas” with a picture of the sun breaking through behind a tree in a forest, in black and white, with a gold-orange frame around it, transformed and pumped up by photoshop and printed on thick paper with my little HP which almost broke down under the burden.

The sign on the wall appeared ten days ago, when the first cards dropped in. The climax was reached when I got the card of my uncle, living in Hamburg. He is not into writing at all; as a matter of fact this year is the first year that I ever got a hand-written proof of his physical existence. His little card turned my inner Christmas alarm from easy-going level 3 (it is going to happen, but you don’t have to worry) to shocking 5 (it is here, your doomed and must seek your Christmas-free shelter immediately or fight the battle for the happiness your beloved ones in the streets of Zurich). So, I carefully analyzed the battlefield, got into my heavy-duty boots and loaded my credit card to finally employ this year’s downtown Zurich guerrilla tactic.

I am childless and have once and for all delegated to my brother the task of passing on the family genes, but it does not really help when it comes to Christmas presents. My brother was rather enthusiastically passing on our genes and thus, I sneaked around downtown to get presents for a lovely teeny (13 years), a charming 8 year old, a darling 3 and a sometimes loud 1 year old carrier of 25% each of my genes. Yesterday, I finally had all presents together, including the gifts for my friend’s children. I also managed to hop from shop to shop with minor lesions only and from one happy crowd of the Salvation Army to the other without loosing my hearing sense. This is a true manifestation of the season’s miracles and the magic of this cinnamon cookie time as the Salvation Army soldiers are powered by a mission in their hearts and 120 Decibel on their lips.

I may now face the candle light dragon. Armoured with a shield of nicely wrapped presents, flying X-mas cards all around me heralding my virtue and strength in black and white, I ride on my black metallic horse to face the beast.