Jump up on it

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Last year, I got really behind in wrapping gifts, and it was a back-breaking session of  ||:measure, cut and tape:|| a couple nights before the family arrived. I said, “Next year, I’m getting a jump on things; I will wrap presents early.”

And here I sit.

Not that I mind, mind. One of the reasons I do all my Christmas shopping on the Friday after Thanksgiving is so December won’t turn into a ridiculous exercise in insanity for the sake of buying things. I’m glad, after school is out, to have a few days to rest and enjoy life as it leads up to Christmas Eve, when we have our family gathering. That, and I need to use my downtime over Christmas break to get Dinner Theatre stuff ready.

I’ve also had a couple of disappointments in the gift department — something I’ve not had before. One fun clothing gift has gone back already (it wouldn’t have fit the recipient very well, even though the size was correct), and I bought myself some $70 boots for $20 at Payless.com, and they’re too wide in the leg for my taste. So, back they go. Bummer. No worries, though. I have plenty of time, and I am still convinced that shopping online is way better than schlepping it out in the freezing cold rain and snow. I mean, I can hit 10 stores online in one hour, with access to every available color (not to mention all brought to my door, free of charge). Try doing that while fighting traffic and parking and slow lines and annoying people and picked-over stuff. What’s not to like?

How do you do your shopping? Are you the last-minute, 11:59 on Christmas Eve type? Do you spread out your shopping over time, or do you like to get it done all at once? While I know the gift-giving isn’t the most important part of Christmas, it is definitely everywhere you look. You can’t sling a cat without hitting a Christmas sale or department store commercial on TV and radio.

But you know…I don’t mind it that much. Giving gifts may not be the most important part of Christmas, but it is one of the most enjoyable, and I think you’d be hard pressed to find someone who doesn’t get a huge kick out of seeing the faces of friends and family when they open a gift specially chosen for them. It’s all part of the love, and that’s really what Christmas was and is about, isn’t it? Whether you believe it’s love within the human spirit, or love in the form of a child sent by God to be the savior of the world — it’s still love. And I’m fine with that.

Is it Finkday yet? Look at me, just off a 6-day break and already complaining… ;-)

Of webcams and heartache

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I broke down and bought one of these today. As a longtime user of the soon-to-be-just-about-obsolete desktop PC (of all the computers/devices I use, it’s my all-time favorite), I don’t have an onboard camera. You know…to use with Skype. To talk with people far away.

One month from now, my best girlfriend of over 25 years will move away. And not just down the street, or to the next town or state — but a long way away. It bites, but I’m trying to put a good face on it. For one thing, it’s a fantastic move for Kay and Bob, because not only will they finally live in the same town as their son again, but they’ll also have tons of fun with tiny house living (can’t wait to see photos of it — and then actually see it in person).

Although I’m tied to a physical location by choice, for two important reasons (#1 — grandchildren; #2 — job), I find myself envious sometimes. The Thriller and I both long to wander free. Still, I admit I love being surrounded by my “things,” too. I enjoy the conveniences of my life, and I love having my family close by. That makes me very fortunate and happy, and I can’t imagine anyone faulting someone else for wanting the same thing. Kay’s son has been on the west coast for many years, and it’s time she was closer to him. It’s the right thing to do.

That doesn’t make this hurt any less, however.

One of my favorite photos of us, a couple Christmases ago.

One of my favorite photos of us, a couple Christmases ago.

The upside is that Kay and I have done the long-distance friendship dance more than once, as she has lived in Europe before, and we are pretty good at staying connected. I told her the other day, during a conversation about her living off the grid with no electricity and no cell service, that I would drag out the paper and pen and actually write weekly letters — you know, the kind you send in surface mail. *Gasp!* Amazing, yes?

I guess it stings a little bit more this time because before, they always came back to their house in the country, about 15 minutes from here. Two weeks ago, they sold the place, so…it’s on. She’s leaving for real and for good, which makes stuff more serious.

No worries, though. As much as she might try, she’ll never be rid of me. I have wheels, and if it becomes absolutely necessary, planes have wings. And in the meantime, there’ll be the pesky webcam and Skype, when she can get into town from the wilderness and use some wifi, or go where she has cell reception. It ain’t perfect, but I’ll take it. Oh, and the writing letters thing…that, too. ;-)

Till then, I plan to grab as much “K time” as I can get. T-minus thirty days…

Voices, long silenced, speak

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“Man’s inhumanity to man makes countless thousands mourn”
Robert Burns, Man was made to mourn: A Dirge (1784)

A monument sits on an overlook that greets visitors of the Sand Creek Massacre National Historic site near Eads, Colorado. In November of 1864, Colorado militiamen killed over 150 Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians on the site who were living peacefully along the creek in their village. (Andy Cross/The Denver Post)

This weekend marks the 150th anniversary of one of the most ruthless and unnecessary “battles” in American history, when 675 Colorado militia slaughtered between 150 and 200 Cheyenne and Arapaho, who were doing just as they were told: flying the Stars and Stripes to indicate their willingness to maintain peace on a scrap of land at the edge of a reservation. Sand Creek is one of many reminders that the American Civil War featured not one, but two sets of dispossessed peoples: Negro slaves and indigenous Americans. The sad part is the latter were largely forgotten for decades afterwards.

Under the leadership of Col. John Chivington, the cavalry functioned like a street gang that morning, descending upon the unarmed villagers at dawn on 29 November, 1864, gunning down women, children and the elderly, execution-style, while able-bodied tribesmen scrambled to find weapons they could use.  Militiamen cut off heads, scalps, limbs and genitalia, and later paraded them in the streets of Denver as trophies.

Capt. Silas Soule

Fortunately, there were some US cavalrymen who were still in possession of their humanity, and refused to attack. One man in particular, Capt. Silas Soule, dared to expose the horrific crimes perpetrated by the soldiers against largely defenseless victims by writing official letters decrying the military’s behavior. As a result, Chivington and Colorado Governor John Evans were forced to resign, but neither was ever tried for his role in the massacre.

Tragically, Captain Soule was himself murdered on a Denver street after the war, and while his assailants were known, they were never tried. Still, in a twist of righteous fate, Soule had the last word, many years after his death.

In 2000, the only first-person accounts of what really happened at Sand Creek were unearthed. In the form of two letters, written in sickening, gruesome detail, the tale was finally and painfully brought into full focus from the 135-year-old voices of Soule and his compatriot, Joe Cramer. The discovery of these letters, among other issues, impelled the Sand Creek historical commission in Colorado to reformulate its take on what happened, and indeed, to make things right.

I won’t expound today on the ocean-deep inequity shoved upon Native Americans as a result of the horror that lay at the heart of Manifest Destiny. Rather, I will hold out hope for our nation to be increasingly compassionate, forward-thinking and colorblind, so 150 years from now, our descendants will look upon eerily similar events of today with the same incredulous repugnance we experienced upon reading those letters, knowing that the country had finally learned its lesson.

A blessed, relaxing Sunday to you!

Quiet day

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The boisterous laughter and silliness and love from last night’s Hamsgiving celebration is a pretty sharp contrast to this morning: a freezing cold, quiet day of slow beginnings, napping pups (Pax was definitely overstimulated last night and loved every minute of it, while poor terrified Remy mostly just hid in the basement), watching football on TV in jammies, leftover ham for lunch, and vroča čokolada later.

This pretty table was heavy with lots of good food, precious family and tons of laughter.

The dining room table was heavy with lots of good food, precious family and tons of laughter.

Hamsgiving is not a long-lasting affair; we start at 5:00, and by 8:00, the house is quiet again, with the only sounds being the Thriller and me, tidying up. Mavis and I really appreciate all he did to help us yesterday, up to and including washing all of the dishes afterwards, which is no small project, as we don’t own a dishwasher. After being up since 3 a.m. and cooking all day, I ran clean out of diesel after putting food away and straightening up, so he did the lion’s share of cleaning the kitchen. (We had kind offers of help from family, of course, but we declined. I guess we’re funny that way.)

While I cluck at the silliness and totally wrong-headed history of the Thanksgiving holiday, I’m very glad we have it. With our kids having busy families of their own, it’s incredibly difficult to get everyone together anymore, and I will jump at every chance I get for it to happen. Awesome night. I’m looking forward to Christmas Eve, when we do it all again. Fun!

Have a beautiful Thanksgiving Day, fiends, and reflect upon how fortunate and blessed we are!

Fink, hoping for a Bears win for the Thriller today

It’s Hamtastic

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I am grateful to pigs everywhere for tonight. For those who don’t know: our children make the Thanksgiving rounds to two-three different homes every year. Several Thanksgivings ago, I decided to try something different for our November family feast, to give the kids a break from turkey, turkey, and more turkey. Hence, Hamsgiving. I’ve claimed the night before Thanksgiving to offer a classic Midwestern menu, but with a perfectly paradisaical porcine personality. :-)

Fiends who have followed my little blog about nothing for going on seven years know that I harbor a particular affinity for cooking and baking, so days like this are enjoyable for me. Better still is the fact that Mavis and I get to cook together all day long for a big crowd (“big” around here is 13 people, including Bob & Kay, who are very much “family” to us), which is usually a laff riot. We all don’t get together near often enough for my taste, so it’s great to have everyone in one place for one day. Although, if our family continues to grow, Mama is going to need a bigger house.

So, I’m off to get ready. Gotta swing by and get Mavis, then hit the grocery for a couple of items I forgot.

I wish everyone who reads this the happiest Thanksgiving (and to those who don’t celebrate this most dubious of holidays, I’ll just say I’m happy you’re here). I love reading about other people’s plans, so please feel free to post what you’re doing today and tomorrow.

PS — Fellow foodies: there’s also a new cornbread recipe I’m trying today. It’s “designed” to wow those who don’t even like cornbread. We shall see…

PPS — I really enjoyed reading your comments from Sunday’s Greek post — I look forward to responding tonight, when the dishes are done and the house is quiet.