The Promiscuous Penguin

Posted on 12 December 2010

Yesterday, for some strange reason, I spent too much time making penguins with olives, cream cheese, and carrots. My thought was that although they are a bit cutsy, they’ll make my appetizer plate – that I promised to make for a 50th birthday party – look more festive. Everyone loved them. Everyone went on and on about them, ad nauseum.

“Oh you’re the woman who made the penguins. They’re so adorable. They must have taken you hours.”

I noticed one sitting on a sideboard. Did the person not like it (though no bite was taken) or did they want to take it home?

I’d rather be like Kate and write a good Christmas story than be “famous” for my edible penguins.

I suddenly had this thought that perhaps my unconscious made me make those damn penguins. I googled “penguin symbolism” and found an article by the National Wildlife Association: “By virtue of their sleek lines, “formal wear,” and pure exotic appeal, penguins symbolize dignity and class. But their decidedly awkward waddles and round, fuzzy offspring also make them adorable and endearing.” Then it tells how “sleazy” the female can be, giving sexual favours for a stone or two or sixty-two.

The Dream Dictionary notes “To see a penguin in your dream, signifies that your problems are not as serious as you may think. It serves as a reminder for you to keep your cool and remain level-headed. Alternatively, seeing a penguin in your dream suggests that you are being weighed down by your emotions or by a negative situation. You need to find some balance and inner harmony.” (Is this applicable?)

Finally, the US Libertarian Party, in simple language, equate penquins with friendliness – “They’re natural icebreakers. They’re also used to cold receptions.” – and continue to relate how they’re cute – “Their playful antics are a picture of freedom.” and how they’re “perfectly adapted to their environment. They thrive on one of the planet’s harshest continents – Antarctica.”

I am now thoroughly bored with penguins.

I have been working hard, editing another woman’s story whose first language isn’t English. It’s slow going – elaborating, changing, while still keeping her voice. On the fun side, I have made a few Christmas cards, and booked trains and planes for upcoming adventures. Did I mention before that Rob, Brendan, and I are going to Northern Ireland for Christmas? We shall celebrate the holidays with aunts and uncles and cousins but don’t plan to stay too long. (For some reason, I think of Marianne Moore’s poem “Silence” – “Superior people never make long visits…” not that I think that I’m superior but we have had our share of visitors and the best ones are those who stay a short while or are so independent that I don’t feel like a tour guide all the time.)

Today, I also booked Rob and me on a flight back to Canada. We shall land in Toronto on January 25th and leave February 25th. During this time period, we will take a flight to Vancouver to close our business but, more importantly, to spend as much time as possible with Michael and Mackenzie, close friends and and meet our niece’s son “Tennyson Singh Brar” who was born yesterday. (Congratulations Sarah and Rene.)


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