We spent Christmas at R's mom's ranch. After dinner, she handed me my gift with glassy tears in her eyes. I peeled back the red and green paper to reveal a portrait that R's belated grandmother painted of him in his Oakland A's little league jacket, cap, and miniature baseball bat. She sniffled as she said that she wanted me to have it so I could hang it with the rest of my Grandma O paintings (I'm up to 5 or 6 now). Very touching...
Then, R's mom pulled out a long wrapped object and handed it to R. My logic led me to deduce that this was the little baseball bat that little R is holding in the painting. WRONG. Much to my utter delight, t'was a massive oosik (walrus penis bone) that his stepdad carved out of a rotting carcass in Alaska years ago.
The bobcat skull was a post-Thanksgiving-thank-you-for-watching-the-pisshound gift from them as well. I suppose if we're ever in a pinch, we can hock the cock for some $$$. Someone special once said that our home "is where good taste goes to die."
Hope your holidays were filled with magic, cock, & pussy, too.