A Beheading at My House
Well... I decapitated Joseph last night.
I didn't MEAN to knock Joseph's head off. It was just a clutsy mistake. Only this is kind of a BIG mistake, because, see... my grandmother made him. And the angel. And a whole ceramic nativity set. With her hands, and some molds, and a really hot oven.
(FYI, my mother is, right at this very moment, freaking out. She's probably grasping her chest and hyperventilating. And cussing.)
Grammy was my mom's mom, and she was incredibly crafty and talented. She was always making something... ceramic dolls, pillows, clothes, clothes for the dolls, jewelry, and lots of stuff with pictures of cats on it. She loved cats.
And one day she decided to make this ceramic nativity set. And she really went all out and even glued teeny-tiny crystals and pearls on the different pieces. I mean, seriously, these were the prettiest camels I ever saw.
Or it WAS gorgeous, until I took out a couple of the major players. These were the weapons I unintentionally used.
And in slow motion I yelled, "Oh CRAP!!!" and squished my eyes closed. When I opened my eyes and looked around the plant, there lay Joseph, headless, alongside the tiny angel who had only one wing.
The rest of the set, including the ox and ass, were unharmed. But the damage had been done. And I was crushed. Not as crushed as poor Joseph, mind you, but still crushed. And near tears.
My mom had given me Grammy's nativity as a Christmas gift several years ago, because she knew how much I loved it. And now, Joseph and the angel and all their broken parts lay in a plastic bag, waiting for me to super-glue them back together again. That sentence, as I typed it, just reminded me of the nursery rhyme about Humpty Dumpty. Let's just hope this situation turns out a little better.