She's Baaaack....
Ha! You thought I'd disappeared, but no, no such luck. I was just sorta gone for a while.
There was that Thanksgiving thing, first. Well, no, there was that plane ride first. Sam, the former attack pilot, and the child, the current intrepid 8-year-old, both enjoy the plane rides. Not me. While I understand, more or less, the theory behind the physical reality keeping the plane in the air, I don't actually have any faith in it. Me, I believe in gravity. I think gravity kicks butt. I'm just waiting for it to kick mine, while I'm strapped into a plane seat, eating those annoying pretzels. But as it happened, the plane did not go down this time, and we arrived safely in Albuquerque, at which point we hightailed it over to Monroe's and ate enchiladas. And there was much rejoicing.
But then, it was Thanksgiving, and we were in Albuquerque, eating turkey over at my brother "The Real Jim" Jim's apartment, and it was good. And we had butter rolls that had taken our guest, Sharon, 4 hours to make, and they were good. And we had mashed potatoes that I myself had mashed, and they were good. And we had pumpkin pie made by my mom from the Ancient Norwegian Pumpkin Pie Recipe of Our People, and it was good. And there was much rejoicing.
And then the next day a whole passle of us wandered all around the University of New Mexico, following the Geocache instructions, or, as it turned out, not actually following the Geocache instructions, that were to get us to a cache of foreign coins, so the kids got to keep theirs, since we never actually got there. But our niece Haylee was able to read that global positioning machine, which the rest of us couldn't, even if we were scientists, so we did indeed find things, like the kiva and the lobo sculpture. Then we ate at Frontier Restaurant. And there was much rejoicing.
Oh, there was more. There was the going up the mountain and eating more enchiladas, amongst much rejoicing, and there was the coming back down the mountain and eating ham over at mom's, again with the much rejoicing, and I think there was some other restaurant in there somewhere, at which we probably rejoiced, and what with all that rejoicing, I was REALLY grateful for the fancy treadmill at the motel, cause when I came home I was the same size I was when I left.
At which there was much rejoicing.
Actually the getting home at all was a little miracle -- the airport closed about an hour and a half after we left, and my brother Carl was stuck up on the mountain, since the interstate was closed, and everything closed, and that's what happens when the snowstorms hit. We saw it coming in as we were leaving. Well, no, I tell a lie -- Sam saw it coming in, and even pointed it out, helpfully, but I didn't pay attention.
I'm happy to report, though, that we didn't set anything on fire. We could have, but we didn't. Sam was hoping that "The Real Jim" Jim was going to deep-fry the turkey, but I explained to him that, though certainly deep frying a turkey would have immense entertainment value, it was much too dangerous an activity, for not enough return, to make it into a Brannen activity. We are just SO not setting the house on fire with a deep fried turkey.
However, we are interested in the possibilities of lighting up various flammable objects and launching them with the trebuchet.
Or even just purchasing some lovely wood or iron balls to be used in the trebuchet. You could do very serious damage to the herb garden with some of the trebuchet ammunition that's currently for sale. And I do like to get my trebuchet out once in a while, to keep it in trim. (Thank you, oh Christine, for the links.)
And now that we're headed firmly toward Christmas, whether we like it or not, it's good that Boing Boing has alerted us to the article on the Math of Christmas Carols, which helpfully compresses the lot into a few choice files. Sam's going to be spending a lot of time playing his vast collection of Christmas music for a few weeks here -- he started in on this project the minute we got home -- and I'm looking forward to hearing him include the new standards, such as "Thumpetty Christmas Parades," and "Bright Reindeer Cap."
It's good to enjoy such hits in the comfort of your very own family, however you're defining that unit. And, oh, the Canadians. They've been figuring out exactly what a family is. My heroes. (Thanks to Being Daddy for the link.)
I'm most interested in the "social control of members" issue, as I figure that, carefully applied, it'd bring down the number of flaming deep fried turkey accidents.
There was that Thanksgiving thing, first. Well, no, there was that plane ride first. Sam, the former attack pilot, and the child, the current intrepid 8-year-old, both enjoy the plane rides. Not me. While I understand, more or less, the theory behind the physical reality keeping the plane in the air, I don't actually have any faith in it. Me, I believe in gravity. I think gravity kicks butt. I'm just waiting for it to kick mine, while I'm strapped into a plane seat, eating those annoying pretzels. But as it happened, the plane did not go down this time, and we arrived safely in Albuquerque, at which point we hightailed it over to Monroe's and ate enchiladas. And there was much rejoicing.
But then, it was Thanksgiving, and we were in Albuquerque, eating turkey over at my brother "The Real Jim" Jim's apartment, and it was good. And we had butter rolls that had taken our guest, Sharon, 4 hours to make, and they were good. And we had mashed potatoes that I myself had mashed, and they were good. And we had pumpkin pie made by my mom from the Ancient Norwegian Pumpkin Pie Recipe of Our People, and it was good. And there was much rejoicing.
And then the next day a whole passle of us wandered all around the University of New Mexico, following the Geocache instructions, or, as it turned out, not actually following the Geocache instructions, that were to get us to a cache of foreign coins, so the kids got to keep theirs, since we never actually got there. But our niece Haylee was able to read that global positioning machine, which the rest of us couldn't, even if we were scientists, so we did indeed find things, like the kiva and the lobo sculpture. Then we ate at Frontier Restaurant. And there was much rejoicing.
Oh, there was more. There was the going up the mountain and eating more enchiladas, amongst much rejoicing, and there was the coming back down the mountain and eating ham over at mom's, again with the much rejoicing, and I think there was some other restaurant in there somewhere, at which we probably rejoiced, and what with all that rejoicing, I was REALLY grateful for the fancy treadmill at the motel, cause when I came home I was the same size I was when I left.
At which there was much rejoicing.
Actually the getting home at all was a little miracle -- the airport closed about an hour and a half after we left, and my brother Carl was stuck up on the mountain, since the interstate was closed, and everything closed, and that's what happens when the snowstorms hit. We saw it coming in as we were leaving. Well, no, I tell a lie -- Sam saw it coming in, and even pointed it out, helpfully, but I didn't pay attention.
I'm happy to report, though, that we didn't set anything on fire. We could have, but we didn't. Sam was hoping that "The Real Jim" Jim was going to deep-fry the turkey, but I explained to him that, though certainly deep frying a turkey would have immense entertainment value, it was much too dangerous an activity, for not enough return, to make it into a Brannen activity. We are just SO not setting the house on fire with a deep fried turkey.
However, we are interested in the possibilities of lighting up various flammable objects and launching them with the trebuchet.
Or even just purchasing some lovely wood or iron balls to be used in the trebuchet. You could do very serious damage to the herb garden with some of the trebuchet ammunition that's currently for sale. And I do like to get my trebuchet out once in a while, to keep it in trim. (Thank you, oh Christine, for the links.)
And now that we're headed firmly toward Christmas, whether we like it or not, it's good that Boing Boing has alerted us to the article on the Math of Christmas Carols, which helpfully compresses the lot into a few choice files. Sam's going to be spending a lot of time playing his vast collection of Christmas music for a few weeks here -- he started in on this project the minute we got home -- and I'm looking forward to hearing him include the new standards, such as "Thumpetty Christmas Parades," and "Bright Reindeer Cap."
It's good to enjoy such hits in the comfort of your very own family, however you're defining that unit. And, oh, the Canadians. They've been figuring out exactly what a family is. My heroes. (Thanks to Being Daddy for the link.)
I'm most interested in the "social control of members" issue, as I figure that, carefully applied, it'd bring down the number of flaming deep fried turkey accidents.
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