Thanksgiving 2006
Happy Thanksgiving to you, O Reader of My Life. Thanks for being there. I'd say more, but I suck at expressing appreciation and gratitude. Know it is there.
It struck me as funny; when we took turns around the table, saying what we're thankful for. (Isn't it cheesy?) Most of us started with, "I'm grateful ..." It's not Happy Gratefullings ... (Really I was laughing at my bad sense of humor.) It sounded like digging for loose change in a gutter, some icy day back in 19th-century London.
Thanksgiving was awesome.
Slept in until 9ish, and Mom made wonderfully yummy orange rolls. Like cinnamon rolls, except with orange icing. Dewicious.
Left for Darrel & Cathy's around 2ish -- we brought brownies with and without pecans (for my highly-allergic sister), twenty-four rolls, pretzels and dip, peas and green breans, olives and pickles. We showed up about 2:30, and stayed until around 9:30. Our family and my sister's family-in-law for Thanksgiving.
Boy, are they wealthy. Like, we're talking three story house by the lake (boat parked on the driveway), with decorations that make you stop and simply look. Look at all the stuff, and go "wow, that's nice." (After coming home I really felt being middle class -- I generally feel we're pretty wealthy.)
We talked about business and politics (that's Mr. Elliot's forte and partially why they're rich) and munched on appetizers (I would've called them snacks.) We then had this great big feast (placecards set and candles lit.) Chris and Summer -- Paul and Sarah's rivals, as it were: Paul's brother, and his girlfriend, whom I didn't hear utter but two sentences ("Hello" and "Thanks") the brief period she stayed with us -- showed up, and they were the only ones that didn't bring something. They showed up about halfway through dinner, then left shortly after its conclusion, shortly after dessert was served.
The Bond marathon was on, we supposed, but we watched the end of Love Actually -- I was too full to pay attention -- and a little more than half of Dr. No (still too full to completely follow what was going on. The majority of my after-dinner fun was lying on a couch going "urrrrgh I ate too much.")
There was piano playing; I played three Christmas songs, brief little things from a leafed booklet, quietly, unobtrusively (and half from Mom's bidding.) I tried playing some guitar, but when you're that full, it's hard to do much of anything except lie there and elocute about how uncomfortably complete you have become. And eat a slice of your sister's upside down pear cake and three of your mom's brownies, while you're at it.
I was to play Mr. Elliot in chess after dinner, but I had overeaten and Dr. No was fluctuating in volume (really loud car chases, quiet dialogue) which frustrated a tired Ms. Kati which created the wrong atmosphere for the game. We had spoken of the newest Bond film, David claiming it to be "the best ever", the more experienced Bond watcher Mr. Elliot disagreeing. Mr. Elliot has read all the books and seen all the movies, David only now embarking on the quest. I'm inclined to agree with Mr. Elliot; the newest Bond film -- which we just saw for a second time (Nick for the first) today -- is targeted for today's crowd, and it is very heavy indeed, but it's not good enough to denounce all the others as inferior. Darrel (Mr. E) prefers Connery as THE Bond, and cited Dr. No, which was the reason we watched it after dinner ... Personally, I like the new Bond in that he seemed to me to be truer to Fleming's description -- an average looking person (not very good looking like early Connery), Scotch-Irish (he has light hair, not black like Connery) and Casino Royale event went so far as to say he was a poor orphan, which Fleming says he was.
The movie made a point on being truer to an actual Fleming book, something the other modern ones with Brosnan weren't. Following the Batman Begins trend, they decided to use his first book... My thoughts, which I didn't get much chance to fully articulate then to Darrel.
At any rate, I feel bad for Ms. Kati. Her father died February 2005 and her mom's Alsheimer's got worse. (She's ~ 87 and he was in his 90s.) Every six to ten minutes she attempted to feed the dog; that's her fixation. Every ten minutes we tell her, "the dog has already eaten," or "the dog will be fed later," and "no, that food is for you," "no, you eat it," "go get a paper towel she has mashed potatoes on her fingers," "no, don't put the food in the paper towel; that is for your fingers." "Oh, thank you." (She goes back to putting food in it.) "No, put the food back on your plate." She stares, not understanding ... "The paper towel wasn't such a good idea, Kati," Darrel says. ...
I also feel bad for Chris. I feel he might have had an enjoyable time with us if Summer hadn't made them leave.
All and all it was a memorable night, I think, one too detailed to write but in part here. Part of it was retrospection, as I'd never really had a Thanksgiving as an adult before. That was the distinction; I'm more mature now, than I was.
I asked Nick, "Gosh, look at their house. Look at how, big it is!" And I swept my arms in the direction behind his head; the dining room extends into what I guess would be 'the lobby' of their house, with this rising staircase, with the living room to the side. Very big, airy, and spacious. Nick looked, sighed and said, "It's nice, and it's something I'll never have." That's the difference between us; mainly attitude. That's what he thought; what I was thinking was, "Wow, this is nice ... Will I ever have something like this?" I thought of it as a possibility; he thought of it as a dream.
" ... Do I want something like this? Do I need this much stuff?" I looked at all her decorations, and I thought about my bare dorm room; I don't spend much time staring at the walls of my room -- really, what is the point? Sure, her house was very pretty, and I would like living in a place that pretty. But then I thought back to my dorm room, and I don't have a single poster up, not one decoration, and the semester's almost over. Every other RA has decorated his or her room except me; is something wrong with me? No, I just have more important things on my mind this semester. I thought about my own family I hoped to have; what would I be like then? I guess my wife would do most of the decorating and I'd throw in my two cents here and there. Already I was worrying about the mess my kids would make. And I'd have to clean up after them. Maybe I could teach then to clean up after themselves ...
Funny how different we all are. Their house makes Nick think of his college career and how he'll be making a living in ten or fifteen years. It makes me wonder what my kids will be like. Hmmm....
I was quiet for the most part, although I talked when I felt spurred to. I guess that's a mark of being antisocial, though, being quiet in public then ranting about my thoughts in my journal ... but that's what a journal is for, right?
It struck me as funny; when we took turns around the table, saying what we're thankful for. (Isn't it cheesy?) Most of us started with, "I'm grateful ..." It's not Happy Gratefullings ... (Really I was laughing at my bad sense of humor.) It sounded like digging for loose change in a gutter, some icy day back in 19th-century London.
Thanksgiving was awesome.
Slept in until 9ish, and Mom made wonderfully yummy orange rolls. Like cinnamon rolls, except with orange icing. Dewicious.
Left for Darrel & Cathy's around 2ish -- we brought brownies with and without pecans (for my highly-allergic sister), twenty-four rolls, pretzels and dip, peas and green breans, olives and pickles. We showed up about 2:30, and stayed until around 9:30. Our family and my sister's family-in-law for Thanksgiving.
Boy, are they wealthy. Like, we're talking three story house by the lake (boat parked on the driveway), with decorations that make you stop and simply look. Look at all the stuff, and go "wow, that's nice." (After coming home I really felt being middle class -- I generally feel we're pretty wealthy.)
We talked about business and politics (that's Mr. Elliot's forte and partially why they're rich) and munched on appetizers (I would've called them snacks.) We then had this great big feast (placecards set and candles lit.) Chris and Summer -- Paul and Sarah's rivals, as it were: Paul's brother, and his girlfriend, whom I didn't hear utter but two sentences ("Hello" and "Thanks") the brief period she stayed with us -- showed up, and they were the only ones that didn't bring something. They showed up about halfway through dinner, then left shortly after its conclusion, shortly after dessert was served.
The Bond marathon was on, we supposed, but we watched the end of Love Actually -- I was too full to pay attention -- and a little more than half of Dr. No (still too full to completely follow what was going on. The majority of my after-dinner fun was lying on a couch going "urrrrgh I ate too much.")
There was piano playing; I played three Christmas songs, brief little things from a leafed booklet, quietly, unobtrusively (and half from Mom's bidding.) I tried playing some guitar, but when you're that full, it's hard to do much of anything except lie there and elocute about how uncomfortably complete you have become. And eat a slice of your sister's upside down pear cake and three of your mom's brownies, while you're at it.
I was to play Mr. Elliot in chess after dinner, but I had overeaten and Dr. No was fluctuating in volume (really loud car chases, quiet dialogue) which frustrated a tired Ms. Kati which created the wrong atmosphere for the game. We had spoken of the newest Bond film, David claiming it to be "the best ever", the more experienced Bond watcher Mr. Elliot disagreeing. Mr. Elliot has read all the books and seen all the movies, David only now embarking on the quest. I'm inclined to agree with Mr. Elliot; the newest Bond film -- which we just saw for a second time (Nick for the first) today -- is targeted for today's crowd, and it is very heavy indeed, but it's not good enough to denounce all the others as inferior. Darrel (Mr. E) prefers Connery as THE Bond, and cited Dr. No, which was the reason we watched it after dinner ... Personally, I like the new Bond in that he seemed to me to be truer to Fleming's description -- an average looking person (not very good looking like early Connery), Scotch-Irish (he has light hair, not black like Connery) and Casino Royale event went so far as to say he was a poor orphan, which Fleming says he was.
The movie made a point on being truer to an actual Fleming book, something the other modern ones with Brosnan weren't. Following the Batman Begins trend, they decided to use his first book... My thoughts, which I didn't get much chance to fully articulate then to Darrel.
At any rate, I feel bad for Ms. Kati. Her father died February 2005 and her mom's Alsheimer's got worse. (She's ~ 87 and he was in his 90s.) Every six to ten minutes she attempted to feed the dog; that's her fixation. Every ten minutes we tell her, "the dog has already eaten," or "the dog will be fed later," and "no, that food is for you," "no, you eat it," "go get a paper towel she has mashed potatoes on her fingers," "no, don't put the food in the paper towel; that is for your fingers." "Oh, thank you." (She goes back to putting food in it.) "No, put the food back on your plate." She stares, not understanding ... "The paper towel wasn't such a good idea, Kati," Darrel says. ...
I also feel bad for Chris. I feel he might have had an enjoyable time with us if Summer hadn't made them leave.
All and all it was a memorable night, I think, one too detailed to write but in part here. Part of it was retrospection, as I'd never really had a Thanksgiving as an adult before. That was the distinction; I'm more mature now, than I was.
I asked Nick, "Gosh, look at their house. Look at how, big it is!" And I swept my arms in the direction behind his head; the dining room extends into what I guess would be 'the lobby' of their house, with this rising staircase, with the living room to the side. Very big, airy, and spacious. Nick looked, sighed and said, "It's nice, and it's something I'll never have." That's the difference between us; mainly attitude. That's what he thought; what I was thinking was, "Wow, this is nice ... Will I ever have something like this?" I thought of it as a possibility; he thought of it as a dream.
" ... Do I want something like this? Do I need this much stuff?" I looked at all her decorations, and I thought about my bare dorm room; I don't spend much time staring at the walls of my room -- really, what is the point? Sure, her house was very pretty, and I would like living in a place that pretty. But then I thought back to my dorm room, and I don't have a single poster up, not one decoration, and the semester's almost over. Every other RA has decorated his or her room except me; is something wrong with me? No, I just have more important things on my mind this semester. I thought about my own family I hoped to have; what would I be like then? I guess my wife would do most of the decorating and I'd throw in my two cents here and there. Already I was worrying about the mess my kids would make. And I'd have to clean up after them. Maybe I could teach then to clean up after themselves ...
Funny how different we all are. Their house makes Nick think of his college career and how he'll be making a living in ten or fifteen years. It makes me wonder what my kids will be like. Hmmm....
I was quiet for the most part, although I talked when I felt spurred to. I guess that's a mark of being antisocial, though, being quiet in public then ranting about my thoughts in my journal ... but that's what a journal is for, right?