Holiday Business
Today we had our staff Christmas party. Dress code was business or holiday business.
I spent some time considering what "holiday business" might look like, but I guessed wrong. Apparently it means wearing red sweaters with little Christmas pins.
But I suppose it is okay that I guessed wrong, because I have never taken the trouble to buy myself specifically holiday apparel.
Instead I chose to wear my Kazakh groom's coat. (Please note that the term "my" modifies the word "coat" and not the word "groom".) Perhaps I have grown too comfortable with its appearance, as it has hung in my closet for several years now. But really, how was I suppose to know the stir it would create?
My quiet entrance into our morning prayer gathering caused instant cessation of conversation... and a few whistles.
During the brief two hours of work before the party, the accounting department sent over a sight seer.
Our Christmas party was at the Getty Villa... a mute curator spoke, others insisted that I should take a picture among the relics since I "matched".
And all day long I got to teach people how to say "Kazakhstan".
Because the coat is so memorable, I can't very well wear it among the same crowd again. But after this, a red sweater with little Christmas pins might just make me cry.
I spent some time considering what "holiday business" might look like, but I guessed wrong. Apparently it means wearing red sweaters with little Christmas pins.
But I suppose it is okay that I guessed wrong, because I have never taken the trouble to buy myself specifically holiday apparel.
Instead I chose to wear my Kazakh groom's coat. (Please note that the term "my" modifies the word "coat" and not the word "groom".) Perhaps I have grown too comfortable with its appearance, as it has hung in my closet for several years now. But really, how was I suppose to know the stir it would create?
My quiet entrance into our morning prayer gathering caused instant cessation of conversation... and a few whistles.
During the brief two hours of work before the party, the accounting department sent over a sight seer.
Our Christmas party was at the Getty Villa... a mute curator spoke, others insisted that I should take a picture among the relics since I "matched".
And all day long I got to teach people how to say "Kazakhstan".
Because the coat is so memorable, I can't very well wear it among the same crowd again. But after this, a red sweater with little Christmas pins might just make me cry.
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