<$BlogRSDUrl$>

...currently reading.....

Kristin Lavransdatter, by Sigrid Undset

...last read.....

Trout, by Ray Bergman
Embed? Win!

Fantastic Contraption

Powered by: MySpace Games >br?



Monday, November 29, 2004

BACK..

Well, I wish I could say something eventful and newsworthy happened over my Thanksgiving break excursion. This is basically it:

1. Ate thanksgiving with mom/grandma/grandpa/grandma's old, old sisters, which was kind of a hoot, really. My grandpa and I only enjoyed 1 large whiskey-type toddy this time..

One other time (a very mini play):

Me: "I like whiskey - I kind of like gin, too."
My Grandpa: "I had to stop drinking gin. It makes me horny."

THE END

2. Moved my dad from his temporary apt. to his permanent one (in Crete, NE). My sister and I both agreed his new place was pimp - it has a 60's style fake fireplace and an enormous doorbell. I mean the doorbell unit itself - usually inconspicuous, in most houses, but prominent to the point of hilarity, in this place..

3. It snowed an assload. Smack on the route we were driving, on the day of the snow. 20 mph on interstate 80. At least all the truckers had chosen a different route, so there weren't any amphetamine-whacked-out truck drivers still barreling along at 80 mph. There were ALOT of cars in the ditches. We didn't have any problems. The fast-driving Colorado A-holes were quickly weeded out into the median or ditch, which were filled with big puffy snow, so it didn't seem like anyone really got hurt.

4. My application for the teaching position in Dublin, Ireland, was received...awaiting word..

Things I've realized in the last 4 or 5 days:

1. My family is messed up. Seriously. But, in spite of all the issues, they're still lovable. Perhaps it's a redemption story in progress. I hate redemption stories.

2. I am just as mature as a 5th grade boy. I think I may have made some progress at some stage in my life, but I've regressed right back down there. I'm OK with that. Probably doesn't help my moodiness, though. Also, applying tentative, raw 5th-12th grade (or maybe caveman) level emotions to real live adult issues isn't very practical or useful.

3. Even though the only other things my grandpa knows how to make are fried eggs, roasted peanuts, whiskey beverages, and popcorn, he makes the best damned stuffing ever. (I've probably realized this before...)

4. If I want to know any news items from or about my family, I will have to call/email/visit the relevant parties and ask direct questions, because word-of-mouth obviously ain't gettin' it.

5. Pickled herring is OK. Rubbery, bony. But OK.

6. Mincemeat pie is OK. Kind of like runnier shoefly pie. But with meat shards.

7. My cousin is like a magnet for weirdness or something. First, he has a random guy randomlydie in his front yard under his tree. Then, an obsessive Native American woman (he thinks) stalks him all over the country. Finally, just as he sits down in his recliner, after picking up his house one day, an ancient old lady walks in carrying a windsock. I won't go into the whole story, but suffice to say, that it was a very, very funny story. Even when told by my mom, who sometimes tells me stories about something that supposedly happened to some kid of a person she knows last week, but actually happened to me when I was 7. Do all moms suck at telling stories?

Yeah. That's what's happened to me in 5 days.

-m




Comments:
My miemau liked drinkin'. Her signature drink was Beam and Coke, so that has a special significance to me. Her choice of beer was Michelob. Sometimes she kept Heineken around, but I think that was her way of being fancy. I kind of get teary-eyed whenever I have a Michelob. I can't find this beer in Maryville. It's all Michelob Light, or Michelob Premium -- not the same.

You may recall that we had a cooler of beer and other liquors at MieMau's memorial service. Am I a redneck because my family serves alcohol at funerals, or am I a redneck because my grandmother was called miemau?

When I was 6, my other grandmother (we called her Ma-Ma) would wake up at 1-2am and ask me if I wanted to sneak down to the kitchen for some "spirits." This is when I first learned a taste for alcohol. It might also explain my sneaking of booze around age 11. (That's when I gave up drinking for a decade. Yeah, I went on the wagon at the prime age of eleven.) I don't regularly keep booze around the house, but still imbibe infrequently.

I just watched Levar Burton make a sandwich with sprouts. I haven't had a sandwich with sprouts on it in years! (Yes, I am watching Reading Rainbow.)
--gh
 
Fairly,
does this make any sense to you?:
http://www.blogshares.com/blogs.php?blog=http%3A%2F%2Ffairlycrass.blogspot.com%2F

--gh
 
Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Nope.

-m
 
And. Re: the 'on-the-wagon-early-age' thing...

I used to sneak gulps out of this ancient bottle of Cherry Vodka my parents kept in the corner cabinet. When I helped my dad move last week, among the items we moved was that bottle. Apparently, I was the only person to enjoy any of it. It tasted like Cherry NyQuil. The fact that there was still a quarter-bottle left when we moved dad probably indicates that I didn't have much of a problem. I think I was probably around 10.

I later graduated to an ancient, vinegary bottle of Riunite they kept in the downstairs fridge. Dad probably just threw that away before he moved the first time. After that, I pretty much didn't drink until the night before my high school graduation.

-m
 
Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?