Ornamental Vagrants

The last time I went to Portland, I took an afternoon off to wander all over town. I wandered so far all over town that two hotel employees later mentioned having seen me, as well as exactly where and when, in two very different spots. At one point—it’s true—I had been pushing a baby carriage.

While wandering an area I frequent less often, I happened upon a shop I’d never been in before. It, like the man at the register, was rather flamboyant—it boasted drippy Victorian household items and some risqué mancentric novelty gifts. I had a lovely conversation with the guy, who was born and raised in Vermont, and I was quietly invited back to a private-ish party the next evening, which would feature Cosmos and shirtless waiters. I know you will be disappointed to hear that I did not go.

I did, however, buy a pink flamingo Christmas ornament. It’s your standard glass-with-feathers. I love animal ornaments, and I didn’t yet have a pink flamingo. And after an extensive conversation about pink flamingoes with my new friend, I certainly had to have this one.

For someone who doesn’t put up a Christmas tree all that often, I sure do have a thing for ornaments. I’ve cut back on the impulse buying in recent years, but I occasionally stumble.

I have plenty of ornaments. It’s not yet what I’d call excessive, but it’s plenty. This year, as I trimmed the tree, I found several that I felt done with. A couple were gifts. At least one I had bought myself, and in retrospect, I’m surprised it made the cut. I thought about giving these ornaments away. But I didn’t think anyone else would actually want them. I didn’t want to risk rejection.

So, when no one was looking, I stuck them on other people’s Christmas trees.

No one has mentioned the discovery of a rogue ornament. But if any of the recipients ever read this, I may be the victim of retaliatory action.