The Eve of Christmas

 It's a happy time for us, visiting two out of the thirteen original colonies for some generational mixing and mingling. 

As happy as I am right now, there are others who are probably even more cheerful this holiday season.  Most notably, New Yorker Kevin Depaolo and the Moore Family of Tennessee.  Kevin, crushed by a 10,000 pound boulder, was rescued after ten hours and survived with all his limbs intact.   Four month old baby Moore was sucked up by a tornado earlier this month and found just fine in a fallen tree when the storm passed. 

Glad tidings indeed.  Can't stop thinking about these stories. Both occurred in this final month of the year. 

The Holidays

Thomas Dambo is an artist who makes trolls out of recycled materials.  My goal in the time I have left on this earth is to visit every damn Dambo troll this side of the Merrimack.  

Or I might have another goal.  I haven't decided yet. 

We're visiting my dad at 90Cab.  My dad's doing a lot of sleeping.  I've put Saving Private Ryan on the TV to lure him into a conversation.  He's obsessed with WWII movies.  He wakes now and again, and makes a relevant remark.  My brother reports he stays up all night and sleeps all day. Doesn't make a lick of sense.

Gear Up.  Fall in. Tom Hanks says that every man he kills... the farther away from home he feels.  

I get it. 

The Turkeys 2023

Good Friends... Here are the turkeys of 2023.  Inspired by Go Dog Go, we made turkey beach party hats.  

We are missing #1 Son and Ms. Shea.  

But rest assured, their turkeys were outstanding.  

Do you like our hats? 

We had so much fun making them.  

g

 

The Loves

I like the mini love stories the NYT puts out.  They're written by regular folk.  Less than 100 words.  Today's story was written by someone who was married to a cowboy for many decades.  I wrote this haiku about the photo she sent in with her piece:

cowboy fixing tack

horse patiently waits and wonders

about tack's importance 

I'm also a regular reader of the NYT Modern Love column.  I love the stories and the accompanying illustrations by Brian Rea.  These columns are also written by regular folk.  This week's story was by a man who didn't want his girlfriend to bring expensive cheese to a dinner party.  She broke up with him soon thereafter. I wrote this haiku about his situation.

why so controlling?  

Does cheese really matter that much?

lonely days ahead now

Then I decided to write a haiku love story about our recent weekend with our grown children. 

Rosalyn and Quinn

their giant autumn foliage 

fill up 706

It's not the best haiku but why should I worry about that?  I think it clearly communicates that these 2 people have a significant impact on our lives.  It also refers to the season which is a hallmark of traditional haiku.

Now it's time for a vacation. Glorious.  It's fun to gallivant about with nary a care in the world. 

The Blow Up

 

Halloween on a Tuesday should be a federal crime. 3rdLand experienced a significant decrease in learning levels for 5 days straight. By the time the bell rang for dismissal each day, I felt wrung out like an old kitchen sponge. My energy reserves were so depleted I worried that I might not be able to drive the mile back to my house. 

 I like Halloween as a citizen, but as a teacher I do not care for it. Because of this year's unfortunate timing, my fatigue built up and by Friday I had a sore throat.  On Saturday I couldn't move off the sofa.  As I languished, I caught up on Golden Bachelor and watched movies.  Flora and Son was good.  Appropriate Behavior even better.  Midnight Run and Blue Jay are older classics.  See any of these films if you want to.

Most 3rdLanders had a plethora of fun stories, but come to find out, the kids with the blow up costumes had some sadness.  A dinosaur inflatable worn by one third lander deflated halfway through trick or treating.  He carried on in his own attire, a pain to explain to the candy givers. Another 3rdlander skipped Halloween altogether when his Sponge Bob inflatable went bust 20 minutes before T-or-T departure time.  His parent dashed back to the shop but was denied an exchange. Annoyed beyond all get out, this kid opted for staying home. As we all know, some losses are so devastating that recovery is impossible. You may want to boycott that store next year.  At the very least, save all packaging and receipts.  Overall, I do not recommend the blow up costumes. Too much heartache.

On Wednesday a kid came to school wearing a Xmas sweatshirt. Charlie Brown. Tiny Piano. Pathetic tree with red ornament. That one sweatshirt led to an extended, wild mashup of Halloween recollection with fervent Christmas plans. 

We're in holiday hoedown mode and I need to figure out how to stay healthy. It's not going to be a super season of holiday cheer if I end up in a coffin by New Year's.

   

The Bowl

 Husbandman and I walked around the Tibetan Mongolian Buddhist Cultural Center this morning. We also visited the gift shop in search of a singing bowl. There were many. 

I wasn't surprised that Husbandman was a natural with the singing bowls, while I bumbled and bungled along.  Bottom line: he's musical I'm not. The gift shop man stood near me redirecting and advising me as I misplayed the various bowls while Husbandman's bowl sang out vibrations throughout the store.  

I bought a bowl anyway because I've always wanted one and I'm pretty sure I can pick up better singing bowl technique at some point in the future. 

 You may remember I recently wrote about my love for my Deagan dinner chimes.  Come to find out, I also love my Tibetan singing bowl.

The Connection

 Our birthday week wrapped up yesterday.  I'm now 9 x 7 and Husbandman is 8 X 8.  We celebrated at restaurants, exchanged cool gifts, and felt all the love of fam and friends.  

As a celebratory birthday extension, we ventured out to an apple orchard early yesterday morning. We walked among the apple trees, split an apple dumpling with ice cream and listened to music.  We joined the hordes of foliage mongers soaking up autumnal beauty. We didn't buy apple cider and that's a regret.  

Later that same day, we attended a screening of Killers of the Flower Moon.  Excellent. You should see it if you feel like it.  It's one of those movies that propels me to the internets to gather facts and opinions about our horrific history. 

My personal connection with the film is a fascinating tale and I will share it thusly. 

In the fall of 2022, while visiting kin in Seattle, Washington, I unexpectedly discovered, and fell in love with, the melodic harmonics of Deagen's historic chimes and longed to have my own.  Unbeknownst to me, #30Something, aware of my obsessive desire, surreptitiously endeavored to procure a Deagan oeuvre.  Late in 2022, after extensive searching, she found, and purchased, authentic Deagan chimes and gifted these to me at our annual holiday gift exchange.  Come to find out, the seller of the chimes had enclosed a note that these very chimes (which I now own) were used as a prop in Scorcese's film, Killers of the Flower Moon!  As you know, we viewed the film on October 21, 2023 at a private screening.  While we did not see the chimes, we firmly believe that they were probably on the table of sound effect props featured toward the movie's end.  (No spoilers, but great scene).  Alas, the chimes were not played, but this is still a cool story.  I ring the chimes each day and they never fail to bring me joy. 

Birthday Week:  Solid 5 on the Fist of 5. 

The Lineage

 I'm back from a trip down south to visit my dad.  We sat in big chairs watching television and gabbing.  Dad held Karl with a K on his lap.  I held multiple plates of fritos. We watched The Quiet Man with John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara.  We talked about movie stars and reviewed Dad's genealogy research. 

Here's a sad story I haven't shared before.  My nana was born Emma Josselin. The Josselin line stretches back to the Massachusetts Bay Colony.  I'm sad to report that some of my ancestors were killed by Native Americans with hatchets in the 1690's. 

I wonder what my family members could have done to tick off their Native American neighbors?  

Let's face it.  It's not hard to put the pieces of this puzzle together. I wish I didn't come from LAND STEALERS, but I have to face the hard truth of my heritage. It is what it is. 

The Festivals

Catching up after a busy couple of weeks in B-town.  Last weekend Good Friend CB came for a visit.  Hoorah!!! 

I took a day off work and we bopped around stellar exhibits on campus.  Ceramics, Photography, Victorian Book Publishing. We saw it all.

On our second day, we drove over to Stinesville Quarry Festival. I'm sad to tell you that I've never spent time in this charming neighboring town, population 203.

Highlight of the festival was the pie auction.  The auctioneers skillfully drove up the bidding and the apple caramel pie went for 200$.  Two water pies ("poor man's sugar pies") went for about 25$ each. Generous when you get the backstory on water pie.   Originating in the Great Depression, water pie is made with water and a few other ingredients.  I'm wondering why someone would enter a pie contest with a water pie, but Stinesville is a land of mystery.

Both nights we zipped around town for Lotus Festival.  Another great festival, full of unexpected pleasures.  Check out San Salvador from France some time if you feel like listening to topnotch Occitan polyphony.  

Our time together was delightful.  Fall's off to a great start. 

The Festival

 Autumnal Greetings, One and All.  Today, we bring news of the Monroe County Fall Festival in Ellettsville. 

We were there at noon to watch the parade, featuring Ellettsville Elite.  The grand marshall was a man who owns a small business that sells signs, vehicle graphics and window tinting.  Other paraders included school communities, church folk, tractor drivers, young cloggers, equestrians, parade princesses, and firepeople in sky blue trucks. 

 Missing from the parade:  floats. 

Don't want to be overly critical, but floats are parade essentials.  I recommend a careful reading of How to Organize a Parade when organizing for next year.  This website clearly states:

One exciting element to consider for your parade is the inclusion of floats.

We're not mad at you, Ellettsville, but next year we sure would love to see some floats. Think it over.

On the good side, the paraders threw out gobs of candy.  We stood near a mom whose kids had a whole bag full.  I joked that the mom could use the parade candy for Halloween handouts next month. Mom told me that she was planning exactly that.  Doy. Way to state the obvious, leeway. 

 I nabbed a couple of Double Bubbles. Husbandman scored a mini-3Musketeers. 

After the parade we moseyed over to the festival booths.  We watched some young cloggers and HM ate a pulled pork sandwich.  

It's official.  Fall is here. 

 

The Apple Butter Festival

 We're back from the Apple Butter Festival in Spencer.  Surprisingly little mention of apple butter (ab) there.  We did find one booth selling ab so we bought a jar.  I'm hoping Husbandman can make some biscuits tomorrow so we can partake of this historic delicacy. Come to find out, ab has been around since the Middle Ages.