One of my favorite sections of A Christmas Carol concerns the party at Scrooge's nephew Fred's house. Fred jokes about his uncle, about his wife's cooking, about his inability to tell a story. He laughs at everything, especially himself. Fred would be the character from this novel voted most likely to play beer pong.
I like Fred. I aspire to be like Fred--affable and friendly with everyone. I don't like being angry. I prefer to overlook flaws of character or moments of asshole-ness. I like laughing, even if it's at my own expense. And I like being around people.
This P.O.E.T.S. Day, the day after Thanksgiving, I participated in our eleventh annual Chocolate Potluck. There are basically only two people who work on Black Friday in the Medical Center--myself and a guy from I.T. We have worked together on this day for over ten years. And we are both chocolate lovers. Eleven years ago, we decided to bring chocolate products to work. A lot of chocolate products. Dove and Godiva and Ghiradelli and Hershey. White fudge Oreos. Chocolate-covered cherries and raspberries. Our selection has expanded and improved each year.
This year was no different. Although a snowstorm was raging outside, we were inside, stuffing our faces to celebrate the commencement of the yuletide season. I felt like Fred, welcoming guests and telling embarrassing stories and listening to Christmas music on my computer. Bing Crosby has been at every Chocolate Potluck we've had. He doesn't eat much, and he's a great baritone.
The Christmas holidays are upon us. Saint Marty has the leftovers at work to prove it. On Monday morning, he will rummage through the chocolate box, eat a Hershey Bell or peanut butter M&M, and think of Fred and his group of friends. Maybe Saint Marty will sing a Glee or Catch, whatever the hell they are.
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| This puts a jingle in my bells |
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