Thanksgiving weekend
Nov. 26th, 2001 12:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quislibetLong weekend in NH.
Wednesday night: drove to NH after dinner. Got there late.
Thursday: generally stayed out of the way as J.'s family fell into their traditional roles for the day: making food to eat that day and crafts to sell the next two days, their yearly "make money for Xmas by making and selling things we don't really want to have around ourselves" ritual at a nearby craft show. I tried to study, instead mainly brainstormed for a role-playing-game I'd like to run some day. Oh well. It's a holiday, right?
Called family members. Talked to my dad in Columbus. I could never do his job (he's a part-time hospital chaplain hoping to become full-time). A recent work shift started with Being There for the family of an elderly woman who had been followed home from the bank and shot dead in her own front yard when she refused to hand over her withdrawal quietly, round about 3 p.m. Ugh.
My brother also had had a tough work shift at Wendy's the day before, but it mainly involved holiday shopper traffic and a big spill. Oh, and knee pain left over from his getting beaten up a couple weeks ago.
Talking to my family upon occasion makes me feel misanthropic, although not at them.
Also heard more about my stepsister, who has been causing a stir by bein' all spooky and witchy and stuff. Obviously I have no trouble with that per se, but I suspect that if she were someone I had met through the local scene (which would necessitate her being rather older, in addition to the changed geography) I would find her one of those annoying goths who take it all too seriously or are only into it because it bugs Mom and Dad (or, perhaps, more to the point, because it bugs step-Mom and Dad, but doesn't necessarily bug Mom so much because it bugs step-Mom and Dad). Do I track down her cool middle school babygoth friends and tell them about how she asked for the Backstreet Boys and Garth Brooks for Christmas a few years ago?
Anyway.
Turning our gaze from the Buckeye back to the Granite State: After dinner: seven kinds of pie made by J.: pumpkin, cherry, rhubarb, mincemeat, blueberry, apple, pecan. Mmm. I stayed up late helping put tags on jars of jam and pretty bottles of vinegar with herbs or vegetables floating attractively therein.
Slept. Had odd dream about writing and putting on a musical involving pirates. Some random dialogue that I still recall:
"But -- you said you were pirates!"
"If you go around trusting everyone who says he's a pirate, your life will be a pretty sorry one."
(audience laughter)
and
"I've always been uncomfortable around prison revolts. That's just the way my mother raised me."
Hmm.
Friday: lazed about. Sorta studied a bit. Watched J. and her dad brew some stout. Went to the craft fair to see what was to be seen and perhaps to shop for presents. Often there are nice things, or at least things that I suspect people on my gift list might consider nice. Not so much this year. The leatherworker from whom J. bought my belt last year shortened it for me free of charge, though. Heard lots of craftspersons complain about the flaky woman who runs the show. J.'s mom did not sell so many vinegars and jams and sachets and catnip toys this year. Alas. Went back to the house for ... pie. An eighth kind, this time: mincemeat with actual meat (venison). Tasty.
Saturday: more lazing. Grocery shopping with J.'s grandma, a visit to J.'s sister in nearby Brattleboro, VT, and then homeward to impress the family with my fusion food skills, turning leftover turkey and squash into a "yankee harvest moussaka." The second day of the craft show also went poorly. J.'s mom and other craftpersons blame in part the new setup that makes it easy to miss half the craft show, depending on which entrance one uses.
Sunday: Crepes for breakfast, and then studying while J. had her pa cut some shelves for us down in the woodshop, to be installed some ten feet from where I currently sit. A lunch of ... pie. Packing the car, including a large puppet theater, for no living room should be without. Except that now of course J.'s parents' living room will have to survive puppet-free. A drive home, stir fry for dinner, exhaustion and mindless television .
Today: Stayed home in case I was needed at J.'s museum to help move some stuff, but the movers they hired arrived in more than adequate number. Blended an herbal tea involving catnip. Amused myself and promoted use of a new homemade scratching post by working crushed catnip into the carpeted base of the post. Feline antics ensued. Came upstairs to study. Wrote in livejournal instead. Time to eat lunch and then to study for real. Honest.
Wednesday night: drove to NH after dinner. Got there late.
Thursday: generally stayed out of the way as J.'s family fell into their traditional roles for the day: making food to eat that day and crafts to sell the next two days, their yearly "make money for Xmas by making and selling things we don't really want to have around ourselves" ritual at a nearby craft show. I tried to study, instead mainly brainstormed for a role-playing-game I'd like to run some day. Oh well. It's a holiday, right?
Called family members. Talked to my dad in Columbus. I could never do his job (he's a part-time hospital chaplain hoping to become full-time). A recent work shift started with Being There for the family of an elderly woman who had been followed home from the bank and shot dead in her own front yard when she refused to hand over her withdrawal quietly, round about 3 p.m. Ugh.
My brother also had had a tough work shift at Wendy's the day before, but it mainly involved holiday shopper traffic and a big spill. Oh, and knee pain left over from his getting beaten up a couple weeks ago.
Talking to my family upon occasion makes me feel misanthropic, although not at them.
Also heard more about my stepsister, who has been causing a stir by bein' all spooky and witchy and stuff. Obviously I have no trouble with that per se, but I suspect that if she were someone I had met through the local scene (which would necessitate her being rather older, in addition to the changed geography) I would find her one of those annoying goths who take it all too seriously or are only into it because it bugs Mom and Dad (or, perhaps, more to the point, because it bugs step-Mom and Dad, but doesn't necessarily bug Mom so much because it bugs step-Mom and Dad). Do I track down her cool middle school babygoth friends and tell them about how she asked for the Backstreet Boys and Garth Brooks for Christmas a few years ago?
Anyway.
Turning our gaze from the Buckeye back to the Granite State: After dinner: seven kinds of pie made by J.: pumpkin, cherry, rhubarb, mincemeat, blueberry, apple, pecan. Mmm. I stayed up late helping put tags on jars of jam and pretty bottles of vinegar with herbs or vegetables floating attractively therein.
Slept. Had odd dream about writing and putting on a musical involving pirates. Some random dialogue that I still recall:
"But -- you said you were pirates!"
"If you go around trusting everyone who says he's a pirate, your life will be a pretty sorry one."
(audience laughter)
and
"I've always been uncomfortable around prison revolts. That's just the way my mother raised me."
Hmm.
Friday: lazed about. Sorta studied a bit. Watched J. and her dad brew some stout. Went to the craft fair to see what was to be seen and perhaps to shop for presents. Often there are nice things, or at least things that I suspect people on my gift list might consider nice. Not so much this year. The leatherworker from whom J. bought my belt last year shortened it for me free of charge, though. Heard lots of craftspersons complain about the flaky woman who runs the show. J.'s mom did not sell so many vinegars and jams and sachets and catnip toys this year. Alas. Went back to the house for ... pie. An eighth kind, this time: mincemeat with actual meat (venison). Tasty.
Saturday: more lazing. Grocery shopping with J.'s grandma, a visit to J.'s sister in nearby Brattleboro, VT, and then homeward to impress the family with my fusion food skills, turning leftover turkey and squash into a "yankee harvest moussaka." The second day of the craft show also went poorly. J.'s mom and other craftpersons blame in part the new setup that makes it easy to miss half the craft show, depending on which entrance one uses.
Sunday: Crepes for breakfast, and then studying while J. had her pa cut some shelves for us down in the woodshop, to be installed some ten feet from where I currently sit. A lunch of ... pie. Packing the car, including a large puppet theater, for no living room should be without. Except that now of course J.'s parents' living room will have to survive puppet-free. A drive home, stir fry for dinner, exhaustion and mindless television .
Today: Stayed home in case I was needed at J.'s museum to help move some stuff, but the movers they hired arrived in more than adequate number. Blended an herbal tea involving catnip. Amused myself and promoted use of a new homemade scratching post by working crushed catnip into the carpeted base of the post. Feline antics ensued. Came upstairs to study. Wrote in livejournal instead. Time to eat lunch and then to study for real. Honest.
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Punch 'n' pie
Date: 2001-11-26 05:26 pm (UTC)Went back to the house for ... pie. [...]
A lunch of ... pie.
I thought I was seeing a theme until:
Blended an herbal tea involving catnip.
Dude! Didn't we smoke that in high school? Tea indeed. Feline antics: I'm, like, so sure.
I've been having pseudo-creative dreams, lately, as well. The kind where you wake up briefly, thinking, well, that was witty, and write it down ... only to finally (finally) awaken, look at the notepad and it looks like this: sigh
Re: Punch 'n' pie
Date: 2001-11-27 07:38 am (UTC)Weird.
In a dream I had last night I was using magical powers to help create a working kitchen in some disturbed kid's playhouse.
Re: Punch 'n' pie
Date: 2001-11-27 08:20 am (UTC)Yeah, see, all dreams are about food, somehow.
Everything is a metaphor for food.
Re: Punch 'n' pie
Date: 2001-11-27 10:12 am (UTC)I'm not sure what food comes into it, though. I'm not quite sure where the Pennsylvanian peasants come from either. She wasn't even Amish.
Re: Punch 'n' pie
Date: 2001-11-27 12:51 pm (UTC)peasant = pheasant
Pennsylvania -> Pennsylvania Dutch -> Dutch oven
Protestant church -> Fried chicken dinner.