‘Beeeeep’ went the horn of the car, waiting at a red light, raring to go.  The car was poised at a multi-crossroad junction, about to take off in one or other direction, but it doesn’t seem sure which way to go.

‘Beeeeeeeeeep’ again.  Now, look carefully at the car.  It is made of tin, and the crossroads are on a map sitting on the lap of a small boy.  The boy is pushing the car around, making it drive this way and that, beeping and revving around the place.  The car starts to get a bit jumpy and the map starts to slide around.  The boy is sitting on a bus, trying to keep his map still, but he is not the one driving the bus. His father is a bus driver, taking him home, and he looks round kindly at the boy who is playing at driving his little red car.

The boy says, ‘Which way are we going?’ and the father says kindly, ‘Wait and see, son, just wait and see.’

 – Here are just a few quotes from “The Shack.”  If you haven’t read this book, don’t listen to the nay-sayers. 
This book is, with no question in my mind, a God-thing. –
Buy it HERE. -
—————–

“Does that mean,” asked Mack, “that all roads will lead to you?” “Not at all,” smiled Jesus…”Most roads don’t lead anywhere. What it does mean is that I will travel any road to find you.”"

“All I want from you is to trust me with what little you can, and grow in loving people around you with the same love I share with you. It’s not your job to change them, or to convince them. You are free to love without an agenda.”

“So no, I’m not too big on religion…and not very fond of politics or economics either…And why should I be? They are the man-created trinity of terrors that ravages the earth and deceives those I care about. What mental turmoil and anxiety does any human face that is not related to one of those three?”

“Trust is the fruit of a relationship in which you know you are loved.”

“Just because I work incredible good out of unspeakable tragedies doesn’t mean I orchestrate the tragedies. Don’t ever assume that my using something means I caused it or that I need it to accomplish my purposes. That will only lead you to false notions about me. Grace doesn’t depend on suffering to exist, but where there is suffering you will find grace in many facets and colors.”

In seminary [Mack] had been taught that God had completely stopped any overt communication with moderns, preferring to have them only listen to and follow sacred Scripture, properly interpreted, of course. God’s voice had been reduced to paper, and even that paper had to be moderated and deciphered by the proper authorities and intellects. It seemed that direct communication with God was something exclusively for the ancients and uncivilized, while educated Westerners’ access to God was mediated and controlled by the intelligentsia. Nobody wanted God in a box, just in a book.

“”Sometimes honesty can be incredibly messy”"

“I don’t need to punish people for sin. Sin is its own punishment, devouring you from the inside. It’s not my purpose to punish it; it’s my joy to cure it.”

“We are not in a chain of command.  We are a circle of relationship.”

“Authority, as you usually think of it, is merely the excuse the strong use to make others conform to what they want.”

“Relationships are never about power, and one way to avoid the will to power is to choose to limit oneself- to serve.”

Buy “The Shack” HERE.

“For God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through out Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us so that whether we are awake or asleep we might live with him.” 1 Thess 5:9-10

What a destiny, what a calling; what a course marked out that we should walk in it. Oh, the fullness of life that Jesus purchased on my behalf!

My destiny was not simply to be taken from slave to sin and enemy of the Living God into right relationship with Him; but to take me through slave to righteousness, through servant, through friend, right through to Son. What marvel: to interact with the Sovereign God. Not just a piece on the board, but a child on the lap of the Father!

What the hell,
does this pain and fear mean?
You claim there’s a plan,
yet refuse to be seen.
Are you really so gutless,
and afraid to explain,
whilst your spokesmen sit by,
counting the riches they gain.
If you are truly the father,
Is this what you call love,
to sit idly by,
in your castle above?
Whilst down here on earth,
your children are crying.
Hells hounds are here,
and flock is a dying.
What kind of father,
sits back in such silence,
whilst his angry young offspring,
show naught but defiance.

As a father I try,
to raise my son right,
to love all your creatures,
and never to fight.
As a son I must wonder,
is any of this real,
What kind of messed up father,
allows this pain that we feel?
Young children are dying,
and some think they should.
How long before you show them,
that this world can be good?
You don’t seem to hear us,
you don’t show you care.
Whilst millions lay dying,
you ignore their despair.
Still your clergy sit by,
and argue who’s just,
all the while they keep guiltlessly,
caving to lust.

What kind of god,
could claim to have cried,
when killing his son,
saying for us that he died?
Your preachers would have us,
believe bullshit stories,
yet all the time scheming,
whilst praising your glories.
Encouraging violence,
in defence of your name,
yet all these religions,
seem to be teaching the same.
They all claim to be righteous,
they claim to be real,
yet from our existence,
it’s our hope that they steal.
So show yourself coward,
If you truly exist,
come set this all right,
Tell the truth that we missed.

Today, we celebrate Thanksgiving.  Thanksgiving- a holiday which we’re told was initially celebrated by the Pilgrims and the Indians to give thanks for bountiful harvests.  Today, Thanksgiving is typically a celebration with friends and family where we stuff ourselves full of turkey and other delicious food till we’re in a food coma.  Damn that tryptophan.  Those still awake watch football or plan where they’re going for the Black Friday deals.

Over the last few days, I’ve been contemplating and reflecting over the things that I am thankful for this year.  Some times sarcasm creeps– what can you be thankful for when your world is turned upside down and you’ve lived through the darkest, loneliest, saddest times you’ve ever been through.  I’ve then given myself a mental pep talk.  After several days of  thinking, I’ve found some light in the darkness.

Basically 2009 has just plain sucked since February.  Life was so good before February- I had a husband whom I loved dearly and we were such a happy family with our new son.  Everybody was healthy.  Life was good.

Then along came February and the stage IV diagnosis, followed by our fight and culminating in our lost battle.

But through it all there are things to be thankful for.

Nathaniel.  I have a wonderful easy going delightful son.  He is a pleasure to be around and his growth and development is nothing short of amazing to witness.

John got to be a father and he was a great one.  Some men never have the opportunity to become fathers.  Of the ones that do, not all of them are great.  John enjoyed fatherhood as much as he physically could through his illness.  Mentally it gave him a reason to fight and a reason to live that stretched beyond self.  John loved his boy so much.  He told me that Nathaniel’s laughter was his most favorite sound.

I had a great marriage and was married to a wonderful man.  I’ve been able to experience true love.  There are lots of people who can’t say that.  I have enough wonderful memories to hopefully last a lifetime.

John’s illness has taught me to stand up for what is right and to fight for those you love and to pick up the pieces and carry on.  The Mary of years past, wouldn’t have stood up to the well known and credentialed doctor and told him that we weren’t done fighting and if he was, then he could be forever referred to by name as “the doctor that gave up on daddy and the doctor who let daddy die.”  The doctors and nurses have other patients and rooms to visit.  The patient has one life.  Sometimes you have to stand up for those you love and insist on the best treatment for your loved one.  In the end maybe the outcome isn’t the most important thing, but rather how you life the life you have and the memories that you leave.  We’ve all been born and we’ll all die… really it’s the parts in the middle that we need to really make count!

John’s death has left me with a hole in my heart- grief, heartache, and loneliness like nothing else I’ve ever experienced.  But, I’m getting through it… not over it, but through it.  Some days are like walking through a nice grassy meadow with the sun warmly shining.  Others are like fighting my way through thick mud and slipping, sliding, falling, and getting up and pushing on.  The sun rises.  The sun sets.  Life goes on.  If I choose to live life or not, it still continues- better to enjoy it while I can.  Nathaniel, the horses, and the cats have kept me going.  They all need me and they all love me.  I’m working or re-building my life.  It won’t ever be the same or the happy home and strong fortress that it was with the three of us, but we’re making it.  It’s not always easy, it’s not always pretty, and it certainly isn’t always clean, but we’re making it…. one day at a time.  Life goes on.  We never know how short or long our life will be.  To me it only makes sense to enjoy it to it’s fullest and be happy as best you can.

For some reason, John’s death has chilled me out more and I don’t usually get upset over the little stuff.  In the end, the little things don’t matter.  It’s the big picture.  I just want to relax and enjoy simple pleasures- hug my kid, ride my horses, take a walk, pet the critters, and just enjoy life.  I’m very fortunate that I can do all of those things without even leaving Leaky Creek!  I love my farm, my house, my horses, my cats, and my son.  I truly feel like there is something else out there beyond our realm.  I do think that John has given me signs.  It’s reassuring and gives me an inner peace that I need.  Attending church has been helpful.  I used to fear dying terribly.  After I held John’s hand as he died, my fear left.  Someday, I’m sure we’ll be together again… as long as he doesn’t hook up with some hot angel in the meantime…

Annapolis Fire Department.  They were absolutely amazing during John’s illness and they (along with Community Fire Company of Rising Sun) made his funeral a fitting tribute to a wonderful man and amazing firefighter.  AFD did so many wonderful things that I know I can’t mention all of them.  They covered John’s shifts, so he received full pay.  They allowed him to retire on disability.  They came to visit him in the hospital and were there for his 2nd round of IL2 treatments at 6 AM & 10 PM.  They transformed our half bath into full bath with a shower that John could use.  Sometimes when you’re sick… the ability to get clean just means so much.  Sadly, John was only able to use his shower a few times, but it was very much appreciated!    AFD built a ramp, so we could get the wheelchair in and out easily.  They mowed our grass and did assorted maintenance jobs.  They went with us to many doctor’s visits so I didn’t have to worry about driving on little sleep or in unpredictable traffic.  They sent meals.  They held a fundraiser in Annapolis.  They participated in Team Smitty for the LiveStrong Challenge.  In, short, they took care of their brother.  John truly worked for a topnotch organization.  He loved working there and they loved him, too.  I miss them.

I’m thankful to the wonderful medical personnel that we encountered… from the friendly, familiar faces on the ambulance, to the caring hospital nurses, to our beloved home health nurses, and every smiling caring face in between.

I am thankful to the friends and family who have supported us and were there for John, Nathaniel, and myself.  During times of crisis, you find out who your true friends are.  Sometimes they are who you think they are… sometimes they’re different people.  I  have been very fortunate that no matter how alone I feel, I am not without friends to support me.  Some friendships have strengthened and I’ve even found new friends.  A simple phone call can make all the difference in the world.  Many people have also helped me out with everything from mowing grass, to checking car brakes, to babysitting, to installing ceiling fans, to watching Nathaniel while I got some equine therapy… and just being there when I needed to talk, needed a hug, or needed a shoulder to cry on.  This Thanksgiving, I’ve received so many invitations- thanks to everybody who thought about my boy and me and knew that we might not have a place to go.

I also have the world’s best babysitter.  I can’t tell you how amazing she has been with my son and how much I enjoy and value her friendship.  We’ve known each other since elementary school, but had lost touch through the years.  Facebook re-united us and I consider her to be one of my best friends, now.  We share conversations, hugs, and tears.  There is nothing like having the piece of mind that my son is being cared for as if her were part of her family.  Nathaniel helped carve his first pumpkin and made his first art project with them.  Her daughter is like a sister to him.  Nathaniel adores her husband and I think it is important for Nathaniel to  have a good male role model in his life.  I can go to work and have no concerns and no worries… to quote the credit card commercials.. “Peace of mind– priceless.”   I know John would approve.

I also hope that I can do some things in memory of John to help fight melanoma and fight cancer.  I don’t want his death to be in vain.  Skin cancer can kill.  We need more melanoma awareness and much, much more research.  I’d love to do a memorial bike ride, since he loved to cycle.

So, even in what has been the worst year in my 34 year life, there are things to be thankful for.  Happy Thanksgiving everybody.  Hug your spouse.  Hug your kid(s).  Pet the critters.  Eat up and watch some football.  And if you get a chance before the food coma sets in take at least a brief moment to remember what you’re thankful for.

Hé oui c’est un problème. Quel que soit la marque il n’y a rien de génial, les Canon et le Lumix GH1 sont équipés de prises minijack mais imposible de voir le niveau, ni même de le contrôler.

A part utilsier le firmware alternatif “magic lantern” sur le 5D qui propose des vu-metres, rien n’est vraiment efficace. Pire encore la qualité des convertisseur est tellement médiocre que tout le monde est unanime . Donc même si vous greffez un bon micro sur votre appareil le son à cause du gain automatique et des convertisseurs médiocres ne sera pas vraiment utilisable pour une utilisation professionnelle. Le firmware alternatif open source Magic Lantern que je n’ai pas pu tester pour le moment propose de désactiver le gain auto, ce qui permet d’avoir à priori moins de bruit. Magic lantern

Je n’ai pas fait très original après avoir zieuté chez Sony, Tascam ou Edirol pour un enregistreur autonome, j’ai jeté mon dévolu sur le ZOOM H4N.

Ce petit boitier a la particularité d’enregistrer 2 ou 4 piste en simultané avec une qualité assez bluffante. Il possède des entrées Jack ou XLR et peut enregitrer simultanément une ambiance avec son couple de micro stéréo et une voix en simultané via un micro cravate par exemple. Il est équipé d’un pas de vis qui lui permet de prendre place sur une griffe porte accessoire.

Une astuce préconisé sur pas mal de site anglophones propose de relier la sortie minijack dans l’entrée du boitier reflex video. J’en propose une autre : il s’agit de lancer le rec sur l’enregistreur Zoom en premier,  et de filmer le timecode de l’écran avec votre HD-SLR préféré pendant quelques secondes au début de chaque prise. Une fois en montage avec final cut pro par exemple vous pouvez utiliser un timecode auxiliaire correspondant à celui du TC enregistré à l’image. et ensuite de faire une synchro … c’est assez simple et très efficace.

J’essayerai de faire un petit tuto en vidéo pour expliquer tout ça.

Laughter rings true,
through this hospital room.
Smiles so bright,
ease feelings of doom.
Pain racked bodies,
weighed heavily down.
Upon little faces,
a refusal to frown.
Eyes full of fear,
but no sign of regret.
This illness consumes,
how unfair can this get.
With years too few,
to be considered a life,
yet in their young voices,
not a hint of this strife.
Their happiness hides,
most dreads and most fears.
But each night in the dark,
we all shed our tears.
Their smiles are the memories,
etched deep in our mind.
Whilst for sense and for reason,
we seek and not find.

This evening, while hubby and son were out walking the li’l crits, self took the opportunity to take a peek at the 16-lb. Diestel turkey, the sight of which has been causing her spirits to sink as if self were a passenger standing on the deck of the Titanic.

With no one around to see her clumsy maneuverings, she hauled that stiff carcass out of the fridge and thumped it into the sink.

Thwack!

Then, she began to prepare the brining solution.

Hmmm, let’s see, the instructions were to boil the brining ingredients in vegetable stock for five minutes. Then chill thoroughly for 24 hours.

24 hours!!!!

But tomorrow is Thanksgiving!

Ok, never mind, self dutifully began to boil the brining mix. Then she dealt with the turkey by cutting away its plastic wrapping. Its skin looked rather pimply and pink. Yuccch! Are all turkeys supposed to look this way? There were a few stray turkey feathers/ needles sticking out of the unholy carcass. Holding her nose, self removed these, gingerly.

Then, she read the instructions on the plastic wrapping.

Remove the neck and giblets from the turkey cavity. Self reached a hand into that slimy hole and came up with something encased with plastic, which looked very much like liver. She tossed the whole into the sink. Thwack! But, peering into the vacated cavity, there seemed only the slightest cave — perhaps enough to squeeze maybe a cup of stuffing. She was quite stumped, so when that genius Stanford engineer also known as Hubby returned, she showed him the hole she had made by lifting out the liver and asked him what he thought.

“What? You want me to stick my hand into that yucchy thing?” hubby exclaimed (Self thought, charitably: He must be exhausted! From walking the li’l crits five blocks!)

“No, you don’t have to, I’ll do it,” self said bravely. “But can you tell me whether there’s anything left in there?”

“OK, hold it up so I can see better,” hubby instructed.

So self took hold of that slimy bird, and held it up (nearly cracking her back muscles as she did so), and hubby declared: “No, there’s nothing left.”

But what was that bony thing sticking out of one end?

Self started to tug and tug and tug. It looked so horrible, like someone’s spine. Self started thinking of Jeffery Deaver’s The Bone Collector and other fascinating readings of yore.

Then, because hubby was deep into flat-screen HDTV, self called out to son: Help! Help!

“What is it?” son said, sounding most peeved.

“I remember you cooked a turkey once for your frosh,” self said. “When you were an RA.”

“So?” son said.

“Well,” self said. “Can you tell me what that bony thing is? Sticking out of that end?”

Son looked. “Have you been trying to hack the neck off this turkey?” he said.

!!!!!!

Self finally took note of the fact that yes, the turkey did in fact have two ends. And over the other end was a plastic tie. So, all she had to do was up-end that slimy carcass, and pull — !!!

Oh, thank you, thank you, son! For pointing out to self that she had just spent the last half hour trying to eviscerate a turkey! Which, as all experienced American cooks know, is absolutely not necessary to producing a fine roasted bird!

Now, self can actually say she has gone one step closer to full American-hood. If she can just pass this one hurdle — the roasting of a delectable Thanksgiving turkey — she will feel well equipped to take her place beside Mark Twain and all those other certified American patriots — er, writers — like Glenn Beck and Sarah Palin (On the other hand, can any of those aforementioned personages boast of having personally brined a Thanksgiving turkey? Self thinks not! Therefore, pats on the back, self! Multiple pats on the back!)

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

The winter season is getting to me…:( The darkness is making me tired and with no energy. I really don’t like it, and still I have another month to go before the sun turns and the days will get longer. Around that time I will also spend a week in Dallas, TX, which will help tremendously, I can hardly wait

I mentioned yesterday that I did a shoot, which was really nice so I figure I share a couple of the photos I did

A tender moment.

Holding hands.

Så var regnet tillbaka. Är det någon mer än jag som känner sig nerbankad i skorna av det här eländiga gråvädret? Vad är det för fel på vackra, soliga höstdagar? Ingenting, om du frågar mig. Humöret blir mycket bättre om solen skiner de få timmarna som det är ljust. Det är mindre än en månad till julafton eller som jag uttryckte mig på jobbet idag; om en månad är det över.

Dottern ochjag har kommit överens om att vi ska baka lussebullar till helgen och pepparkakor nästa helg. Jag tänkte göra ett pepparkakshus i år. Ett egendesignat hus. Men jag har lite svårt att välja om jag ska göra en modell av vårt sommarhus eller en moell av en berömd byggnad. Om det blir bra lovar jag att lägga ut en bild på det.

Jag måste skryta med min dotter coh delvis min son. Hon hade ett SO-prov igår som gällde juridik. Hon fick MVG. Det fick hon visst på senaste NO-provet också. Hon kanske ska bli jurist av något slag. Och idag har vi inhandlat en svindyr, mycket avancerad grafräknare till sonen. Jag vet att han går i nian men han läser gymnasiematte. Det lutar tydligen åt att han ska sökan in på Naturvetenskapliga linjen med inrikting på matte och dataprogrammering. Vi kan väl lugnt säga att han tappade bort mig vad gäller matten för ett och ett halvt år sedan. Jag håller inte på med dessa avancerade ekvationer i mitt jobb så allt sånt har jag tappat för länge sedan. Strax efter proven skolan för att vara med exakt. Underbart när ungarna är intelligentare än sina föräldrar.

Ni ska få en bild från i våras som påminnelse om vad som tittar upp ur jorden om ett halvår.

…or, “What I did with my lunch hour yesterday that made my arms sore.”

I think I’ve mentioned previously that I’m a fan of low-horsepower socialism. The province I live in is one of the more socialist places in North America, is in fact where the notion of government-run healthcare came from, and yesterday’s innoculation experience is apt to confirm just about any preconception you care to name regarding that kind of a system.

The clinic was set up in a disused school (my wife’s high school, coincidentally enough). As one passed within, one received a form on which to print their name and government health number, with a place to check which essentially declared you were aware you were having needles shoved into your arm and might not feel entirely well later, and whether there was some reason you might not want the shot (egg allergy is a big one).

Passing along the hallway, there was a room designated as pre-screening, where the poor misfits who couldn’t fill in the form properly got help, then another room with a sign saying “Screening.” The use of this word is not what context leads to believe, so I’ll return to it. Past the screening room, the school’s gymnasium had a dozen vaccination stations set up, and a half-dozen nurses occupying them (the other six were, I expect, off for lunch), and a few beds for fainty types. March over, hand the nurse the form, get the jab, two if you feel like you want the standard seasonal flu shot as well, and away to a waiting room where you’re asked not to go anywhere for fifteen minutes in case you discover you are in fact allergic to eggs.

The cost to me– the gas it took to get to the clinic (about eight blocks from work), the ink it took to fill in my form, and about forty minutes because the place was a little busy. Plus a slightly higher tax burden than someone in a more laissez-faire part of the world. I am entirely happy with that. As a bonus, my wife had taken my son for his second shot (infants get two spaced half-doses) so I got a mid-day cuddle. Because the vaccine was entirely in government control, I could no go in any sooner than yesterday, because I’m generally healthy and not of an age where H1N1 is as threatening as it is to some. My wife got hers early for health reasons, my son because he’s an infant. I’m a little less OK with that, since I was in a bit of a fidget over contagion the past couple of weeks, but I understand the need to keep the clinic from being swamped with robust pushy people while the chronically ill and otherwise susceptible are pushed aside by them.

The one thing that really struck me as odd is the thing that would get the strongly right-wing sort shouting, “See?! I told you it would be like that!” The screening room was nothing to do with deciding who should get the shots. The screening room had a fifteen foot screen at one end, with seven ranks of chairs set up facing it, each rank twelve seats across– a theatre. This was a flow control. Each rank would in turn be taken in for shots, so those who had got there first were known and given correct precedence. The weird thing was what was being screened– a loop of a woman explaining what we were there for, what was about to happen, what the side effects might be, and why it was a good thing to get vaccinations in general. It was Orwellian, to be honest, but a very low-grade and not particularly threatening form of Orwellian.

Of course, I’m on side. The rightist might well flee such indoctination. He might also, as a result, catch a nasty flu. Carrots and sticks, I suppose.

Today’s pen: Sheaffer Statesman touchdown
Today’s ink: Pelikan blue-black

16 Nov 2009 A 55-year-old Taiwanese man tricked up to 20 women into having sex with him in an elaborate scam where he posed as both a handsome young man and that man’s ailing father.

Hsu Shian-ming, who was arrested on Saturday, allegedly posted photos of a youthful male model online, claiming to be that person, and attracted numerous calls from women interested in romantic liaisons, the China Post reported.

Hsu would then use the telephone conversations to tell his victims he had a father whose medical condition required constant sex to stay alive, sweet-talking them into doing what was necessary to save him, it said.

The women would then meet up with the “father”, also Hsu, waiting for them at various hotels in Taipei, according to the report.

One of his victims eventually became suspicious after several attempts to see the handsome “son” were unsuccessful, and after she uncovered the truth with the help of private investigators, police were involved, the paper said.

:: :: :: :: :: ::

A few weeks ago, I was reading blog after blog about Thanksgiving. Some from my Canadian friends who celebrate in October, and some who are just overly excited about the holiday (or just like to prepare early, like Tiffany ).

I promised a blog about my holiday traditions, and promptly procrastinated. I thought about it … alot.  However, thinking about it sorta depressed me. Now, with only 1 day left until the actual holiday, I thought I’d better not put it off anymore.  So, here goes.

When I was growing up, my mother’s family would have these majorly huge feasts on Thanksgiving. They would take place over 2 days or so, depending on who was coming from out of town. If it was the usual, close-to-home people, we’d all just gather early on Thanksgiving morning. But every couple of years, we’d have relatives from 1000 miles away, and they all seemed to come on the same year. I’m sure it was planned that way, but it always seemed like such a huge coincidence as a child.

I had cousins galore to spend time with. My grandfather’s family was always large, and so he had plenty of bedrooms for everyone to sleep in. We’d either go a day early or stay a day late to spend time with those rarely seen relatives.

In the mornings, all the women would converge on the tiny kitchen; everyone bumping into each other. As a child, it seemed as though it was some sort of well choreographed kitchen dance. The kids were told to go outside and play … but don’t get dirty! Us older kids would usually go for a walk, most likely to get away from the younger kids.

When it was time to eat, we all crammed into the dining room and living room. Once you were in, you were stuck until everyone was done. There was no room to move around. In my high school years, my grandfather sold that house, and moved to a smaller house. But I’d swear there were more people that would show up then! Maybe it was just that all of us kids were the size of adults by that time.

There had to be at least 30 people and maybe upwards of 50 or 60 on some years. So many people, that 3 tables were not enough. Tables filled every available space. Some in the kitchen, some in the dining room, some in the living room. And us teenagers would take our plates into the bedrooms or out onto the front porch to eat. We usually had decent weather that day, even if the days preceding and following were rainy or snowy.

The amount and variety of food would boggle the mind. I’m sure I’m forgetting some, but there was turkey, mashed potatoes (white and sweet), stuffing, corn, lima beans, green beans, mixed vegetables, gravy, warm rolls and bread. Then for dessert we had just about every kind of pie imaginable, plus ice-cream. And since the day would go on and on, there was usually a tray of cheeses, deviled eggs, sweet gherkin pickles, olives (black and green),  pretzels, potato chips, raw vegetables, and an assortment of dips. I swear, I’ve never seen so much food in one place!

After dinner (which was actually closer to lunchtime), we’d sit around and chat, or play games or go outside and play. I’m sure there was a tv on with football, but if there was, I don’t think I ever saw it. The feast would last all day, ending only when the last of the people would finally go home, or go to bed. Dishes were an all day chore to be done by everyone at some point.

This tradition ended shortly after high school. I’m not sure I know why, but I think it was because my grandparents were just getting too old to host it anymore. It was too much work.

Which kinda worked out for me, too. I was with my first husband, and his mother liked to host her own Thanksgiving. So every other year, we went to her place or my father’s, alternately. The amount of people that I encountered dropped by at least half.

The amount and variety of food was drastically reduced. Old favorites were gone from my plate. A couple of new favorites replaced them, however it was disproportionate.  At my father’s, I had a creamy mushroom slop. I wish I knew what to call it; it tastes much better than it sounds! If I can get my step-grandmother to give up the recipe, I will try to post it. At my mother-in-law’s, I became addicted to stuffed mushroom caps. Stuffed with crab and/or lobster meat. And no, I never did get her recipe before I was divorced from her son! I know, I am just as disappointed.

Even though the variety of food was sparse at my mother-in-law’s, it was all great! And she did start a new tradition: she’d forget the rolls in the oven until the burning smell would remind us, as we were sitting at the table eating. Every year. Without fail. *snicker*

After our divorce, my tradition changed again. My father started going elsewhere, and my boyfriend fiance common-law husband … oh hell, let’s just call him Michael …  Michael’s huge Italian family had their own way of doing things. Some of the variety of food was added back, and some foods I’d never heard of, let alone tried, were added to the mix. Like “holiday soup”, which years later I found out was “Italian Wedding Soup”. Good stuff, if it’s made properly. It was always a surprise, depending on who made it.

The biggest thing is that all of the holiday luster just seeped out of my life. It took me years to feel like I was accepted by alot of his relatives, and during that time, I started to resent having to spend holidays with them. But I put on my fake smile and cheery attitude for about 6 years. After that, it became a fight to get me to go. Of course, Michael and I were fighting about everything by then. No surprise that we finally split up after our 9th year.

And now, yet another family and another tradition with my current Husband. The feeling of acceptance and family is there in abundance! But the food. Well, let’s just say that things took a major downward turn. My Husband’s family cooks much the same way the Amish do. Alot of that food is foreign to me. And if it’s not foreign, it’s something I just. don’t. like, period. Gone was all the food I’ve ever enjoyed for Thanksgiving.

So, I get turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy. There might be some vegetable, like corn, that I’ll actually eat. I’ll put a small spoonful of stuffing on my plate, just so I don’t seem rude (and then I’ll pick at it and cover it up with something else, just like a child). Oh, and the home-made bread that his grandfather bakes. YUM! There are no condiments on the table, except for butter. Everything is cooked as plain as humanly possible.

There’s stuffing (they call it filling) with oysters. Ew! Stuff called “chow-chow”, which looks as bad as it sounds. Red beet eggs (which always cracks me up, ’cause where I come from, they’re called pickled eggs … and besides, is there any other color of beet besides red?). There might be coleslaw, which I will eat. Usually.  But that’s it! Oh, and I think there’s sweet potatoes, but I don’t eat that anyway, so it’s no big loss.

Dessert is usually ok. Pumpkin and apple pie. Although, last year, the pumpkin pie was stringy, and I had to find a non-rude way of dumping it in the trash without being noticed.   Ice-cream. Yes, that I’ll eat without complaint. It’s all done and over with in 2 hours time, and everyone heads for the door.

So, aside from the usual things that I’m thankful for, like my Son and my Husband, and the people I love, I’m finding it difficult to be thankful for the actual dinner part anymore. I would love nothing more than to have the abundance of food and family that I used to have. But alas, we’ve all moved too far away from each other, and we’ve grown very disconnected from our families.

I am thankful, though, that I have a great bunch of in-laws that have accepted me into their lives and always make me feel welcome. That, and they raised a wonderful guy that I’m proud to call my Husband!

“Because you are sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, ‘Abba, Father.’”  — Galatians 4:6

If we were to name the things we are thankful for, among friends and our health, many of us would include family on the list.  Our families certainly give us reason to be thankful  (though it might not feel like it at times).  They are such an important part of our lives.

The warmth and support we draw from our earthly family gives us just a glimpse of the delight of being part of a spiritual family.  By receiving the free gift of salvation given to us by Jesus, we become adopted sons and daughters of God.  We get to call God our father and Jesus our brother.  Our Heavenly Father has our back.  He is there to mentor us, to give guidance when we ask for it, and discipline us when we need it.  He delights in us as a father delights in his sons and daughters.  His power over sin is our inheritance. And deep in our souls, we can finally say we “belong.”  We are accepted and loved, part of something more amazing than we can imagine.  We are family.

This Thanksgiving, give thanks for your family — in more ways than one.

“No matter how good they were, some memories deserve to be forgotten.”

–  Gary Sinise (tonight’s episode of “CSI New York”)

Self doesn’t know how she can still find time to blog, when tomorrow is the day when she has to start brining that (damn) 16-lb. turkey, all so that son can tell his friends back in San Luis Obispo what a good cook his mom is! Bleaaah! Why did she ever etc etc etc

Anyhoo, tomorrow is tomorrow, and this evening is this evening, and here’s the short list of books self is interested in reading, after perusing the 15 November 2009 issue of The New York Times Book Review:

1. After reading Susan Cheever’s (rave) review of Mary Karr’s new memoir, Lit:

• Mary Karr’s The Liar’s Club
• Mary Karr’s Cherry

2. After reading Harold Bloom’s review of Peter Ackroyd’s retelling of Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales:

• Peter Ackroyd’s The Canterbury Tales: A Retelling

3. After reading Michael Greenberg’s review of Kay Redfield Jamison’s Nothing Was the Same: A Memoir:

• Kay Redfield Jamison’s 1995 memoir, An Unquiet Mind
• Kay Redfield Jamison’s Nothing Was the Same: A Memoir

4. After reading Clancy Martin’s review of Paul Auster’s Invisible:

• Paul Auster’s Invisible

5. After reading Marilyn Stasio’s Crime Column:

• Phoenix Noir, a collection of “noir” short stories edited by Patrick Millikin
• Dial H for Murder, Susan Kandel’s latest mystery featuring amateur West Hollywood sleuth Cece Caruso
• Derek Nikitas’ The Long Division (“At one point, we’re following three different cars on three different roads, each a vehicular stage where frantic parents and their miserable children can act out their sad fantasies.”)

This is unadulaterated joy!  It’s my son’s soccer team celebrating the goal they scored to win their first playoff game.  It was scored in the last 30 seconds of double overtime.

This team has won lots of games.  In fact, they won their division championship, but they never celebrated with such abandon.  I think I know why: because they really EARNED this moment of triumph.  Their opponents played well, and my son’s team was down 1-0 at the half.  Coming back to force the game into overtime was satisfying, but winning with almost no time left on the clock created a sense of jubilation.

When we earn our happiness by putting forth our best efforts, it’s so much more satisfying than having it just handed to us for no good reason.  I try to remember that when things are not going well.  If I can make it work out, I will feel all the greater joy.

“There’s a hole in the world now … A center, like no other, of memory and hope and knowledge and affection which once inhabited this earth is gone. Only a gap remains. A perspective in this world unique in this world which once moved about in this world has been rubbed out … There’s nobody who saw just what he saw, knows what he knew, remembers what he remembered, loves what he loved … Questions I have can never now get answers. The world is emptier.”

Nicholas Wolterstorff, Lament of a Son