Just Merveilleux

Life at № 42

The Evil Agendist

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You know those Christmas cards they make you buy every year from the people who paint with the paintbrush in their mouth or feet or wherever because they’re missing limbs? They’re terrible. Maybe they should be introduced to a different type of activity. Every year I send a check and then put the terrible cards in a drawer.

Mike says we know too many people. He’s right. It’s impossible to be a proper friend to too many people. We’re only going to one Christmas party this year. And we probably won’t stay long.

My parents and most of my grandparents are still alive. Life’s cruel tricks. So many people would like to have parents and grandparents- and me the one person who could care less has them. They don’t bother me, though. None of them have permission to contact me.

I told Mike we must amend our wills in case something happens to us at the same time. A car accident or lightning to the four poster bed; It’s made of metal. I suggested our nephew and his wife should get everything as long as they agree to move to France and live at number 42 so the dogs aren’t traumatised by having to move to Holland. Mike says we can’t make people move. That life isn’t a 19th century novel. I think it actually might be.

The magnificent Mrs. Soudavar, one of the top socialite hostesses of the past half a century, is about to publish a new cook book. I can’t remember if it’s number 3 or 4. I also can’t remember how many times we’ve been drunk together. I can however tell you the woman can cook. Seriously cook. Yesterday she sent me a picture of the cover.

kim

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28 comments on “The Evil Agendist

  1. boyslikeme
    December 10, 2016

    That first paragraph just made me actually laugh out loud, and I couldn’t agree more, ghastly things, bless ’em.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. kjennings952
    December 10, 2016

    Our drawer is the front credenza, closest to the mailbox. I use them whenever I (ahem) need a last minute returner. What’s your address? 😉

    Liked by 3 people

  3. kjennings952
    December 10, 2016

    I’m learning from the best 😝

    Liked by 1 person

  4. john zande
    December 10, 2016

    I thoroughly agree… The dogs come first. No question about it.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’ve always received mine as gifts because I was a pretty, fun, drunk person. Do you want me to get you one?

      Liked by 1 person

      • Hariod Brawn
        December 10, 2016

        Really? I read the few reviews and with your recommendation her work sounds great. I promise not to sell it on eBay if you do. 😉 Shall I email you my address?

        Liked by 1 person

      • Of course! They’re out next week, so it’ll be 10 days or so.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Hariod Brawn
        December 10, 2016

        Too kind! Thankyou! ❤

        Like

      • Do you want the new one or one of the fancily priced older ones?

        Liked by 1 person

      • I suppose the price issue is because they’re not available to the mass market. It’s an “insider” sort of thing. She reviews the top tier of chefs so she really knows her stuff. If you look up the surname Soudavar, you’ll get what I mean. They’re Iran’s answer to the Vanderbilt’s.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Hariod Brawn
        December 10, 2016

        I’d be absolutely delighted with either – whichever suits you, Pink. 🙂

        Like

      • Hariod Brawn
        December 10, 2016

        Address sent. 🙂 Prices can skyrocket when books go out of print. A while ago I tried to get hold of a s/h copy of a book that O.U.P. had gone out of print with, but they were going for upwards of US$300 on eBay. I messaged the author [Zoltan Torey] in Australia and he kindly sent me his personal copy gratis rather than have me wait for a 2nd. edition copy on M.I.T. Press. Such acts of kindness – Zoltan’s, yours – help keep the faith. 🙂

        Liked by 2 people

      • Even your address sounds hippie-ish 😀

        Liked by 1 person

      • Hariod Brawn
        December 10, 2016

        Well, that’s just my address on the earthly plane, of course, not my cosmic abode.

        Liked by 1 person

  5. metan
    December 10, 2016

    “None of them have permission to contact me.” Did they send you one too many of those terrible Xmas cards? 😀

    Lightning selectively striking the four poster bed? Loving your imagination.

    Liked by 2 people

    • I never really liked them. I know it’s awful to say it aloud, but it’s true. As a child and teenager one doesn’t really have a choice, but as soon as I became an adult I decided to make it official. Last time I saw or spoke to anyone in my immediate family I was 21 🙂

      Like

      • clubschadenfreude
        December 10, 2016

        Lucky you. I’m still too guilty to have told them “sorry, we haven’t a damn thing in common and I don’t like you”. Husband and I do need to do the will thing. Someone needs to get the blue chairs!

        Liked by 1 person

      • The guilt never really goes away . We’re indoctrinated into the family myth (plus they send the occasional letter/email trying to make me feel guilty.) That being said, I weighed the guilt vs. the work involved in maintaining those relationships and decided guilt was by far the best option 😉

        Liked by 1 person

  6. karenjane
    December 10, 2016

    After a horrible few weeks (relatives being ill, stuff breaking down needing expensive repairs,me being more gloomy than usual), reading this has made me smile….you are in a bit of a grump, worse than me. Poor artists, some aren’t too bad, but those cards are usually dreadful & sent to make you feel guilty at having 4 working limbs I suspect.. If I get any, I cut them up to use for writing myself notes of things to remember, or shopping lists, so they are useful in a way.
    We know too few people. And never get invited to parties, which is just how we like it.
    And if Holland is cold, they must have cosy houses, so the dogs could spend their days lying in front of fires or next to radiators or whatever the Dutch use to heat their homes, dreaming of warm French sun in their other lives. But I doubt that will happen, as you will both live for ever, surely.

    Liked by 1 person

    • They’re like the limbless mafia. They send you the cards whether you want them or not and then you feel guilty for not liking them, guilty for wanting to send them back, guilty if you don’t send them a check. There’s no way out of it!

      Liked by 3 people

  7. Arkenaten
    December 14, 2016

    I don’t do xmas cards any more, much to the annoyance of my mother, who has all limbs attached and sends us one every year. There has been the occasional year it has arrived before the 25th and has not required ironing so as to stand unaided, in proud solitude on the dresser in the dining room.
    Although I confess, I am avidly watching the post box for a card from ”Esme”.

    The funniest card I ever received was from an aunt in the UK who thought it would be a splendid idea to send an xmas card with a picture of an elephant with a piece of holly in one of the corners. I suppose with us living in Africa and all that, it was considered appropriate.

    Like

  8. Sirius Bizinus
    December 15, 2016

    I don’t think it’s terrible to say you don’t like something. Now, if you sold the cards to people as misprints of famous works of art, that would be bad.

    Like

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