December 25th, 2008

yule, gingerbread motherboard

Happy Christmas!

It appears to be Christmas in this timezone, so Happy Christmas to all who are celebrating, a very good day to those who aren't, and a peaceful day free from pressure for those who are hiding from it.

Guide Dog Aunt has declared that she's Not Doing Christmas this year. Guide Dog Uncle and assorted of his relations, plus raranax are up at the Tahoe cabin; it's going to be just Guide Dog Aunt, spintherism (younger cousin), Deacon the Lab, Dazzle/Parnelli the Poodle, and me.

Despite this determined and somewhat noble declaration, my aunt has nonetheless impulse-purchased a turkey (a small one), and there will be stuffing as well. She wasn't taking too kindly to the idea of having left-over meatloaf. There's also a wreath up.

("And you have a wreath up," I told my aunt as we were headed out to walk the dogs today. "Re-thup?" she asked. I clarified. 'Thup' turned out to be the past tense of 'thip', I declared, a word from my childhood. This led into a tale of a medicine dropper bulb, a small child's nose, and very delicate and wet cast porcelain items drying, and what happened when the forces of physics acted thereupon.)

There's rain tonight. There's also quite a bit of gusting wind, and that's banging things about outside.

Plans for the morning:

Wake up.
Cornbread will happen, either as or along with breakfast.
Guide Dog Aunt will go out for a morning run with the Poodle, and leave Deacon behind, because Deacon was looking slow and limping a bit this evening at Fort Funston.
Lunch.
We'll start on the stuffing by 1pm.
Bird should go in the oven by 2pm. (We don't want to repeat tonight's meatloaf problem, where it didn't come out of the oven until 9pm.)
After the bird is in the oven, Guide Dog Aunt and I will head off to some park or other and look at deer and bunnies. (Bunneh!)
We must be home before 5pm, as the bird will be coming out of the oven at this time. (Spintherism is of course more competent in the kitchen than I am, but will he be awake and/or there?)
Turkey!!
If I know my family, assorted insanity-based hilarity will follow.
Nine

THIP

Once upon a time, best-beloved, when I lived in a home-built log cabin in the woods of Fairbanks, Alaska, there was the Thip Incident.

I was a very small child, then, so small that I don't remember this myself, only in pieces and patches from having the story told so many times.

Living in a cabin in the woods of Alaska without a television, sometimes you have to make your own fun. My father took the top from a medicine dropper, squeezed the air out of it, and placed it on the tip of my nose and released it. The suction held it there.

He took aim with his thumb and forefinger, and flipped the top right off my nose. "THIP!" he declared as the top went flying.

This was great fun. So we did that again.

Mama was a potter. Mama had been casting in porcelain, little delicate round bottles to drip water or ink, perfect in form and function. She freed the little bottles from their mold and lined them up to finish drying in the little one-room cabin.

THIP.

The top of the medicine dropper went flying across the room, right smack into one of Mama's precious pots. The little bottle bent and gouged most horribly, ruining it completely.

Mama was Not Happy.

That was the end of thipping for a while.
  • Current Mood
    nostalgic nostalgic
running, bomb tech

40 tweets for 2008-12-25

In the last 24 hours, I posted the following to Twitter:
  • Thursday, 0111: suggestions: update suggestions form to indicate that all fields are necessary.
  • Thursday, 1117: @afuna I think whole chunks of the internet are going to be slow today for some reason ... and I still haven't finished my holiday writing!
  • Thursday, 1349: Best Aladdin fic ever: http://yuletidetreasure.org/archive/84/wholenew.html
  • Thursday, 1419: Called parents. Aunt took over call after the Menopause Question. I cheerfully uncensor things when relaying! "None of your f- business!"
  • Thursday, 1439: Oh, the punch line: http://yuletidetreasure.org/archive/76/sixtyyears.html
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