Tail-less terrors

Happy Holidays Everyone!

I thought that I'd start this email by giving you all a glimpse into
my everyday life out here…
I recently bartered for half an office in exchange for random acts of farm labor. Unlike other people who have offices fall in their laps, I have to prove myself by working around horses that look like donkeys and a cattery of manx cats. For those of you who have never seen a
manx cat, they are cats without tails (bread that way). They look so odd without a tail that I can't help but treat them like lepers...and they hate me. There is one that invades my office to commit random acts of terrorism while I'm away… like destroying the scarf that I knit at the last meeting. Oh, by the way, it's socially acceptable to knit at meetings here and it has totally kept me from becoming a distraction…a real challenge I've faced in the past. If knitting were
allowed in high school, I would have never been sent to the office. Anyways, last week the woman who I share the office with tracked in cat poo/vomit/whatever from the manx cattery, pushing my gag reflex's limits to the max. Now this might sound judgmental, but I'm guessing
she couldn't smell the poo/vomit because she's a chain smoker, adding yet another item to the list of why people should quit smoking. Never did I expect this to be in my job description and sometimes, like the duration it takes for a Glade Plug-In to work, I think a cubicle might be nice.

About a month ago, a team of well-intending dentists sailed out here for a charity mission to bring dentistry to the islands. Having had a 2 year outstanding dental appointment, I decided to sign up for the event, which took place in the dusty Ladies Parlor of our community center.

There I was, sitting upright in a wicker chair- an island "Golden-doodle" dog panting on my right, a man wearing a headlamp on my left. That man was the dentist, Dr. Oh (real name). The lighting in the Ladies Parlor was too dim for him to see anything, so someone had gone home and gotten their personal headlamp in the name of dentistry…instantly turning the situation into some sort of spelunking adventure. Horrifyingly enough, Dr. Oh accidentally turned on the
strobe-light function of the headlamp while creeping in towards my mouth- instantly transforming him into a Zombie (insert horror film "eeee eeee eeee" music). His dental technician quickly fixed that problem and the rest of the dental experience was pretty run of the
mill- giving exception to the technician behind me, keeping the wicker chair at a steady 60 degree angle. All in all, no cavities and no accidents, of which I'm very thankful for…I pity the fool who needs to get a cavity filled.

Lastly, I found out over Christmas dinner that there is an island-wide bet concerning whether I can cut it as a lobsterwoman or not. The woman who leaked this information told me that only a small group of women have proved themselves sea worthy throughout the island's history and her money is on me joining those ranks. She then told me…."Don't you even think about going out this winter, I can't lose this bet." Good thing she told me, there's something so inviting about
single digit temperatures, giant lobster claws trying to snip off my numb digits, and turbulent winter waters that just beckon vomiting. I'm going to wait and test out my lobster legs this summer, when it is nice outside. Wish me luck.

Alright, this concludes the island update, where the women are strong, the men are all good looking, and the children are all above average intelligence.