oysters, muscadet and Christmas in February

Why even bother calling it a Christmas party when it's being held in February? Why bother calling it a Christmas party when some of the attendees do not even celebrate Christmas? Is it a Christmas party because we received gifts (bonuses)? Or is it a Christmas party because that's what everyone else does? And is it my imagination or were people a little awkward around each other? How is it that, during any given shift, we will typically blather incessantly to one another, the only lulls in conversation emerging on account of more pressing (work related) tasks arising, and -yet- when we are thrown a Christmas party in February, our conversations are forced and topics elude us? Is it because of the presence of the significant others? Is it because we are not wearing black? Is it because we are eating and drinking openly and not on the sly? Or is it just because?

Nonetheless, the "Oysters and Muscadet" event at Carafe was a most welcome departure. The muscadet was crisp and tasty, albeit white, as muscadets will be. The oysters were lovely and exquisite and I could have consumed another two flights. Instead, I had the pleasure of enjoying the increasingly difficult-to-obtain fois gras, which has become the foodie equivalent of the Salem Witch Trials. While I must admit to feeling an eensy bit conflicted over the PETA vs. fois gras (and those who love it, consume it, sell it) conflict because I can so often side with the environmentally-oriented peeps when they go up against the man, I'm afraid (this time) my inner foodie gets to win this round. This means that I can relax and enjoy my fois gras with pleasure, rather than guilt. (J even tried some!!! And liked it!! Yay J!)