Kickass and zoomed Christmas

Kickass, the doorstop dog, naps as the keeper laments the shortcomings of zoom Christmases as lacking any means to convey the aroma of mince pie, the feel of quick hugs from distant grand kids and close inspection of the age lines in the faces of the “old” kids that once cavorted under his—the keeper’s Christmas tree.

As tech deprived as he is, the keeper is not comfortable with control of the zoom’s “mute,” feature, suspecting that it is disproportionately applied to him and he cannot help but wonder which of the family members might be doing it.

The keeper is, of course, awed by the rise of technology that allows people to be partially in each other’s houses and faces, and suspects that it will be only a matter of time until people can “beam” each other up, and then there will be a whole new set of problems having to do with such things as who gets the last piece of mince pie.

Perhaps it is just as well that the keeper will likely have experienced the big “beam up” before that happens: it would be unseemly for an old man to shout or pout over a piece of pie.

The keeper and Phyllis had a great Christmas, zoomed and otherwise, and, like everyone else, they anxiously await the vaccine that will eventually produce herd immunity and actual hugs and kisses.  In the meantime, they will keep that kind of physical thing “in house” and try to do more of it, which is a recommendation for everyone: there is simply no sound reason not to grab and hug somebody you love when the opportunity presents itself, and that remains true far beyond the zoomed holidays.



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