Merry Christmas 2010

Well...Look who's here! Welcome. We were expecting you.

Do come in from out of the cold. Let me take your coat.

By the way, Santa made a visit. This year he came directly over from Amsterdam. (He uses a bike there, did you know?) Yes, Amsterdam who doesn't. (Use a bike, that is.) Ha ha.

Just go on into the den. There's a nice fire going. I would say sit down, but in these digital times I think the "PC" thing to say is "scroll down."

While you are settled in front of the fire with my very best single malt, please enjoy a traditional Polish Christmas carol.

So, now, scroll right down, won't you?

Click here for a recording from a previous Christmas party at our place over in the old country a few years back.

Why, thank you. We grew the tree ourselves and decorated it with our own hand made ornaments. By the way, Martha (Stewart) loves our treatment this year. (She's Polish you know.) She was also quite impressed (jealous) when she found out that I cut the stone for the fireplace myself...using my own hand made tools.

And, finally . . .I bet you thought Santa had forgotten you. Well, no such thing. We hope you like Rolex watch. Here's one just for you. Click here to have it sent right over.

The Merriest, Most Joy Filled Christmas to you.

David and Michele

Oh, and before you leave, let us show you the grandchildren. Click this.


To Jesus on His Birthday
By Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)

For this your mother sweated in the cold,
For this you bled upon the bitter tree:
A yard of tinsel ribbon bought and sold;
A paper wreath; a day at home for me.
The merry bells ring out, the people kneel;
Up goes the man of God before the crowd;
With voice of honey and with eyes of steel
He drones your humble gospel to the proud.
Nobody listens. Less than the wind that blows
Are all your words to us you died to save.
O Prince of Peace! O Sharon's dewy Rose!
How mute you lie within your vaulted grave.
The stone the angel rolled away with tears
Is back upon your mouth these thousand years.

Back to the Party . . .

Santa Polka . . .(wait for it)

You Don't Have to be Polish to Love a Polka . . .

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