Christmas Cards


I had an interesting Christmas. It wasn’t bad. I went to church Christmas eve then went to a friend’s house to eat crablegs and brisket and play cards until the wee hours of the morning, as that is when cards are best played. My friend Harry entertained us with his version of “The bear necessities” from Jungle Book complete with several verses and some back-scratching action as well, (the fact that he is built quite a bit like Balu only enhanced the image) We are still laughing!  Then Christmas day I did the un-thinkable. I invited my mom and step-dad and my dad and his girlfriend to dinner. I also invited Harry as a buffer. Partially this insanity was to avoid having to feel like I had to go two places and eat two meals. I made a roast and potatoes. Everyone brought the rest so it worked out well. My mom asked that we play cards so we would have something to occupy our time. So we played cards. Mom’s daring side came out and she went set several times, and took her partner Harry down with her. Later she called and made a comment about how she hoped Harry wasn’t too mad about losing because of her. I said I didn’t think he cared about winning that much. He told me later he had a good time, and I think we all did. The best part for me was setting my dad three times in a row…

In other exciting news, we get to wear blue jeans and “book” tee-shirts at work on Thursdays if we have “book” T shirts. Otherwise we have to wear slacks (or in my case probably colored jeans because they don’t make too many “slacks” with a long inseam). I don’t have a lot in the way of “book” shirts but I got approval to wear a kick-ass jersey (once I get it bought) which has Vonnegut across the shoulders and the number “5.”  They also had “Poe 13” (because his wife was 13 when they married and “Thorou [except they spelled it right]23” because he was 23 when he went to live on Walden Pond, and a bunch of others. I love the inside joke!



Laughter and Tears (again, nothing to do with divorce)

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I just got done reading a book, and I want to tell you a story about someone I knew in college. His name was Will and he was devastatingly handsome. He was also incredibly funny and smart. Will was working on his Master’s Degree, I am not sure in what, it seems like it was soils but I think I had him in a basic soils class so that could not have been it. I remember him mixing chemicals in an Erlenmeyer Flask, and he made a comment about it being like mixing martinis.


I took a fall semester off of college to work. When I came back to school there was a framed photo of Will in the hall. A memorial. He had died that summer in a drunk driving accident on the Reservation. It still makes me feel awful.


My first summer in college I had lived on this reservation; working for a farmer. I knew the tiny town Will had lived in, I knew the roads, I immediately knew which curve he was on when he had died.


I just finished Sherman Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. It has been a long time since I laughed and cried so hard over a book. Probably it was Red Sky at Morning by Bradford. It just reminded me of Will. I don’t know how many people from college think about Will, but I still do from time to time.

Whenever, Wherever


wildwomanofthewest asked us what our dreams were.  As a youngster I dreamed of being a belly dancer. This is what I told my Sunday School teacher I wanted to be when I grew up. I think she was a little surprised, well maybe not, she must have known me. If I had the money or the time or the venue I would do this in a heartbeat. That was the best part of the ladies’ dance recitals, watching the belly dancers, and the clothes? I seriously wanted to get a jingly belt thingie when we were in Morocco /Epcot last year, but I decided I couldn’t justify it. Looking back…well, where would I wear it? Eh. It was probably the right choice at the time. I will just have to go back, next time with more money and nerve.


So if you walk past my house at just the right time most mornings you can hear me jamming out to this…

That is my secret dream. I also wanted to write, which I do if only sporadically. I wanted to marry a dashingly handsome cowboy and to be a mom and to live on our ranch. I have only pulled off about a third of that, but I hold out hope!



Ho Ho Holy Cow!


I looked for it on the NPR archives so I could attach it but I suspect I might heard it over ten years ago. A young man was speaking about believing in Santa. He had grown up in an isolated place, as in there may have been fewer than ten kids in his school. Picture somewhere in Montana. His parents were hard-core Santa promoters and he didn’t have television or even many cohorts (in the statistical sense of the word) to disavow him of this notion.  His parents would go to the lengths of tossing 2X4s on the roof and letting them slide off so they would look like sleigh tracks in the snow. He was in high school before he found out about Santa. I honestly don’t remember if he felt this was a good thing or a bad thing. I just remember how his parents worked hard to make things magical for him, and how long they kept it going.

I am working to keep the older two from ruining it for the younger two at least until Paul hits school.

SP’s Word of the Day


I have coined a word.

Thesaurapy (thesAURapy) n. 1. The treatment of anger by looking up evil words to describe the person with whom you are angry.

Some people go to the gym to burn off anger, some turn to demon rum. I break out my Thesaurus (and my dictionary to look up the words I looked up in the Thesaurus.) Actually I have two, would that be Thesauri? 

Did I give my Thesaurus a workout today! And it works. It distracted me quite a bit and I built my vocabulary.

In the interest of full disclosure I have an appointment with demon rum tomorrow night. I called a meeting of my closest advisors at the round table. Mom offered to watch the kids.  If you are in town, stop by.