Rest Ye Merry Mermen 

Yep, no doubt about it, Christianne Belleville shook her head as she trudged wearily through the halls of Seas the Moment, a beachfront souvenir shop in Port Emerald, Florida. It’s going to be a Florida Christmas.

If the ornamental sleigh lead by eight antlered pink flamingos was not a sufficient harbinger of this fact, then the mermaid ornament display certainly was.

Even more interestingly, each of the decorative porcelain mermaids bore an uncanny likeness to Riana, her ex-husband’s first secretaryand soon to be second wife.

Oh yeah, Riana doesn’t have a fin, at least not that I know of, Christianne shrugged as she stepped closer to the Splash of Spruce display tree that bore these colorful caricatures. I must say, though, that these little ladies liken her in a number of ways. Flowing hair? Check. Annoyingly narrow waist? Check. Plastic boobs? Check.

Sniffing loudly, Christianne made to turn away from the offending tree.

Can a tree truly be offensive? She cocked a curious eyebrow. She stopped abruptly as she spotted a low-hanging ornament that lined a far corner of the Splash tree.

This hanging figurine bore some striking similarities to others on the tree. Like the others, it came complete with flowing hair, flawless features, andnaturallythe prerequisite fin.

And this ‘merperson’ also bore an impressive chest; one that appeared bronzed, bulging, and decidedly male.

“A merman!” Christianne pumped her fist in the air with obvious enthusiasm. “Rock’n’roll.”

Soon the ornament found its way into Christianne’s shopping basket, and she really started to like this concept of a Florida Christmas.

* * *

Hours later, Christianne savored yet another benefit of a winter holiday spent in the Sunshine State. A December day that did not freeze one’s extremities or entail the wearing of layered polyester.

On the beaches of Port Emerald, one could spend Christmas Eve with her toes buried in warm golden sand, and her gaze trained on the sheer azure sheen of sparkling waters. She could walk alongside noble, ivory-feathered cranes and witness the soaring of diamond-hued dolphins.

Of course, one also witnessed the countless families who walked the beach together, sharing and enjoying these sights.

Christianne, for her part, trekked the sands as a solitary traveler. And soon, she would retire to a hotel room that overlooked Port Emerald Bay; one that came complete with a single bed and a small Christmas tree she would decorate alone.

For now, though, Christianne closed her eyes and felt her senses lulled by the flow of sweet breezes, and the song of seagulls overhead.

She then opened those eyes to catch a radiant sunray as it illuminated the waters below; lending a rich ruby cast to waves fresh and flowing.

I guess if one is going to be miserable, one might as well do it in style, she shrugged.