toille, tulle, tooelle

i had a fantastic experience the other night.
we had a chamber gig, at some house, for some christmas party, and it started at 7:50 pm. my redheaded friend picked me up at my house, and dropped me off a few minutes later into a frigid ankle-deep slush-puddle in front of theirs. i forgave him though, but only because he was giving me a ride home. upon entering the festively-decorated house, (which, i must note, had a nearly-life-size illuminated manger scene shining golden upon the front lawn) my jaw dropped.
our hostess, a dumpy, pseudo-blonde and excessively hairsprayed old woman, was all smiles and bangles, complete with sparkling christmas blazer and a bright, three-inch-long-plastic-christmas-light necklace, identicals of which she had plainly given out to the rest of her female guests as party favors, as many were sporting them. indeed, most if not all of the guests were over sixty, and many of the females in attendance were attired similarly to their hostess. most of the males wore red or green at the most and seemed more often to approach the brink of slumber rather than the brink of rapture while we sang. the women, however, praised us endlessly and provided us with a mountain of dessert, which we humbly devoured. while we were gorging ourselves, i noticed an abundance of ceramic figurines, particularly various manger scenes scattered throughout the room and across shelves and tables. one especially noteworthy... erm... object, was a doll set-up of Jesus and various small children, all of whom had surprisingly voluptuous hair. (we inappropriately and probably sacreligiously called it the Jesus-barbie from then on.) of all her thrilling decorations, however, my absolute favorite was an almost-elegantly painted ceramic boot, mounted in a gilt frame on her wall, filled with plastic pink and white roses, and covered with a transparent plastic dome, which made it look more like a spaceship than anything else. I kept casting furtive glances toward the thing during conversations: i couldn't take my eyes off its pure excellence.

two days ago, i went to barnes and noble. purchased some great reads, smelled the forbidden aroma of starbucks, and wistfully ran my hands over the endless rows of books. (sanitary, i know.) i always experience a strange buzz after departing a book store. i feel like all those books i touched and saw imparted a glimpse of their treasure to me, but took it back before i could remember any of it.