I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

Well, here it is, Thanksgiving night, and I've just had my first meal of the day, a ham salad sandwich.

It's just as well I didn't make any real plans for the holiday feast, 'cos quite frankly, I just haven't felt much like eating these past two days. Yesterday I had breakfast, some dip and chips...nothing else. This morning I had some cheese and crackers...I had to go to the store down the way, 'cos I was out of milk, and my stomach finally decided it was hungry, so I picked up a cheap sandwich to nosh on.

I do have the makings for the cherry chicken and whatnot, however, I'm finding that I'm less than enthusiastic about cooking for myself tonght. Meh--I get that way sometimes.

I've been a bit down, last week or two....you'd think, as each year passes, I'd grow out of the grief, but it seems like every year, it just gets worse. Very strange, that is. I never thought it would be like this. They say that tired old saying of "time heals all wounds," but I think that's just bunkum. Mum died, around 7 in the morning--I was a bit too rattled to know for sure what time it was, I'd been summoned by a sheriff's deputy to the hospital at around 1 in the morning--my home phone was broken, and I only had a mobile phone on me, and wasn't getting a signal--so, exactly like with the night my dad died--only that time I didn't hear the phone 'cos I was deathly ill with travler's sickness--I woke to a cop pounding on my door in the middle of a cold night.

I'll never forget that drive--I drove down the Glens Falls Mountain Rd.--a hairpin curvy mountain road that was sort of a short cut to the city, a road I'd driven countless times, taking mum to the dialysis center--I remember thinking, that that would be the last time I would ever drive down that road, while mum was still alive. Hospital staff weren't the most courtesous around, and the ICU mum was in, had only just been built, and the waiting area wasn't exactly people friendly...there wasn't even a receptionist, comfy couches or snack machines there...just chairs. I remember dozing on a wee hard sofa all night, in between checking on mum. Around 5am, they told me there was no hope of saving her, that she'd slipped into a coma...and handed me a clip board....with a paper attatched to it. And once I'd signed that paper, my mum would die.

Some of you know all this, but for those of you that don't:

A year later, I was given an eviction notice--my plaugy grasping chav Brooklyn landlord's had a son, whom suddenly decided that he wanted to move into the house in Lake George, where I had my flat--and where another man had a room, downstairs. We both had cats. The landlords used the cats as an excuse to evict us both--me, less than a week after my 46th birthday. If not for the help of a friend, I not only would have lost all my pets, but all my possesions, and, I would have been homeless...for me, literally I was staring down at my own personal living hell.

In the end, I could only find a place that would take three cats--which meant that I had to put my two elderly cats-brother and sister--Red and JR, to sleep. Red was getting on, and was starting to show signs of a serious illness, but, Red was absolutely my best friend. I brought him into this world, and the thought of seeing him out, just about broke what was left of my heart. I miss him so much.

Last year, I also teetered on the brink of homelessness, as a pay cut at work, was followed by a garnishment of my wages by a student lender. I was working flat out, 6 to 7 days a week, sometimes split (day-night) shifts--but, still, I was often going hungry...I was also without health care...no insurance, and suffering from a horrendously painful tooth abscess, that eventually spread to my face, and made me so ill, that by the new year, I was hospitalized with. Also, last Christmas, I couldn't pay my electric/gas bill, and had a disconnect notice hovering over me, through to the new year.

So you see, as much as I used love Christmas--I mean, I just couldn't wait for it--now, it's not exactly been the cheeriest time of year for me, these last several years. Dad too, died, shortly after the new year...and, ever since mum died, I've been completely alone, with only the cats for company, and people that I talk to online.

If I seem a bit touchier than usual, or angry or sad...that's partly why...well, that and my naf personality. Some people wish for plastic surgery, or boob jobs, or liposuction--I wish for a personality transplant, ha-ha.

Gah--this is a depressing post, isn't it? Sorry, it wasn't intended to be. I just needed to say it, that's all. No worries, I'm fine...yes I'm sad, but really I'm fine, honest. One day at a time, that's my motto--dont' look forward and don't dwell too hard on the past, just take life minute by minute, 'cos in the end, that's all I've got.

Every family in the US, has their own holiday traditions, regarding our annual Thanksgiving day feast. In the US, Thanksgiving is often linked with Christmas--much in the same way Boxing Day is linked to Christmas, in Canada, the UK and other parts of the world.

Thanksgiving is America's second-most important holiday. It doesn't really go back to pilgrim times though--it's a fairly "new" holiday, that came about in the 19th century. It's a day just like the name says: a day for giving thanks for the blessings of the year that's gone by, and day to be with family and friends, and, basically, a day to relax and stuff yer face...well, for those of us fortunate to have the day off, in the US, many resturant workers, as well some shop clerks and convenient store clerks, hospital and emergency staff, don't have that option. So, I give thanks to them, for taking their holiday to serve us, and I give thanks to my lovely, lovely friends, who I've been so blessed with, over the past few years. I give thanks to my cats, for loving me. I give thanks for Russell T. Davies and his fellow producers, the staff and crew at BBC Wales and David Tennant, for making Dr Who and bringing such joy into my life again...even if only for 40 minutes or so. I give thanks that I have a roof over my head, and food to eat. I give thanks for still having at least some of my possessions. And, I give thanks for having a Christmas tree again, it's something I've missed sorely, even tho' I've not got much reason to celebrate the holiday, any longer..it does cheer up the room.

Anyway, growing up, mum used to put on the usual feast every year--tho' sometimes it would vary. One year when I was in high school, a class mate hooked me up to a relative of theirs, who sold pheasants. They sold mum a nice plump frozen pheasant, all ready to be roasted, and gave us a discount, as well...and so one year we had pheasant instead of turkey--and it was delicious! What a treat that was...over here, pheasant isn't sold in supermarkets or butchers, it's very difficult to find, and usually very expensive.

Usually though, mum made the traditional turkey. But, never Butterball. (the most popular brand of turkey over here) This will sound silly, but mum had a bad experience with a Butterball turkey once, and swore off them forever. One year, she forget to take the bird out of the freezer (very much like moi did with her chicken yesterday), and spent about 8 hours running and pourting hot water over it, to get it to thaw enough for her to stuff it.

Our day began with mum getting the turkey ready to go in the oven. Then, we all sat down to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, on tele. After, it was an afternoon of chips (crisps) and dip, cheese and crackers and other snacks, and watching old films on television--in later years, it was the original Star Wars trilogy, but when I was growing up, it was movies like Wizard of Oz and It's a Wonderful Life, and such. Then dinner. Our meal consisted of sitting down, at the kitchen table, having some shirmp cocktail (except me, I didn't like it)--this was simply fresh shirmp, sold packed inside a hot tomatoey cocktail sauce, seasoned with horseraddish---I was given a small glass of orange juice each year, instead.

After we said grace...for some reason a task that usually fell to me--and after mum admonished dad to stop picking the meat off the turkey--we'd dive in.

Our menu traditionally was:

Roast turkey stuffed with homemade bread dressing made with Bell's poultry seasoning, hot rolls with butter, tinned green beans or peas & carrots (later replaced by broccolli with cheese sauce), those little creamed onions, freshed mashed potatoes with giblet gravy, and cranberry sauce (jelly).

Desert varied every year, but traditionally we had pumpkin or apple pie with either ice cream or whipped cream, but sometimes we might have an ice cream cake, or hot fudge sundaes.

We didn't have wine on Thanksgiving, but all drank cold milk, instead.

It was one of the few times we used tablecloths and centerpiece decorations in our house, during the year...my biggest memory is the smell of roasting turkey, and the constant gabble of the tv in the background. Mum had got this little candle, that looked just like a tom turkey, that she lit every year...I think we had that for about 5 or 6 years, until it finally gave out...otherwise we used just plain old candles...again, about the only time of year we ever ate by candlelight.

Then, dad watched the news, and we sat around the televison, watching Gone With the Wind or whatever special film they were showing (dad rarely watched football at home, mostly he just stayed in bed and napped the day away, or went down to the village, to our volunteer firehouse's bar, to play some gin rummy with the guys, if he was so inclinded--another thing for us girls to thank God for)

What--if you had one--was your family's TG tradition?

On the first hour of Christmas the first thing you hear from me, is...

"Friggle-fraggle, hugger-mugger, frickin-frackin tree!, mumble-grumble..!"

On the second hour of Christmas the second thing you hear from me, is...

"Frickin-frackin' mumble-grumble, hugger-mugger...feckin' LIGHTS tangled in knots! Feck! Shite! mumble, grumble..."

On the third hour of Christmas the third thing you hear from me, is...

"Golly-woobble, hugger-mugger, fricker-francker...where's the stinkin' ornament hangers! feck, arse, mumble grumble..."

On the forth hour of Christmas, the forth thing you hear from me, is...

"grumble, growl, hiss-spat, hugger-mugger, bloomin' H, don't tell me the stinkin' tree stand is busted? shite, feck, hugger-mugger, arrgh..."

On the fifth hour of Christmas the fifth thing you hear from me, is...

"Crikey, gol-dang-it, hugger-mugger, wibble-wobble, feck, snarp, Yeah, I KNOW the tree is crooked! feck arse mumble grumble frack...."

On the sixth hour of Christmas the sixth thing you hear from me, is...

"Oi! No! feck, arse, wigget-bigget, golly-wobble, feckin' a--that strand of lights has gone out? feck, arse, gol-dang-it-all..."

On the seventh hour of Christmas, the seventh thing you hear from me, is...

"Gol-durn it, whataa-mutta What d'ya mean, they're all sold out? fricka-fracka, grumble-mumble, shite me with a hose...."

On the eighth hour of Christmas, the eigth thing you hear from me, is...

"Mutha-huffa, frick-a-frack, mumble-grumble...they won't be back in 'till AFTER Christmas? sunuva, hugger mugger, feck, arse, shite....

On the ninth hour of Christmas, the ninth thing you hear from me, is....

"Oh bells-mells, fricka-fracka, huggle-muggle, zippa-zappa my bloomin' Christmas card list has gone missing? fricka -fracka, hugger-mugger...

On the tenth hour of Christmas the tenth thing you hear from me, is...

"Oh feck, hugger-mugger, huddle-muddle, fricka-fracka....blimey! look at that, the queue to the till is tailbacked out the back door and into the rear car park! feckin' blinkin' bloomin' mutha-huffa...."

On the eleventh hour of Christmas the eleventh thing you'll hear from me, is...

"Freakin' A, not again, blinkin' blonkin' mutha huffa...the tree fell over AGAIN? blinking blonkin' frippa-frappa, humble-grumble..."

On the twelfth hour of Christmas, the twelfth thing you'll hear me say, is...

"oh shite! mutha huffa, frimble-framble, hecka-pecka, wimble-womble, feck, arse, shite--What d'ya mean, I have to work late on Christmas eve? fricka-fracka, mumble-grumble..."

"No, sorry. I know I'm sexiicious, but I have to draw the line at you snogging me on camera, Christian...erm--meet me in the supply room, later."

I'm sorry, just can't help myself--here I am, alone on the holiday, no big meal to get (foregoing the American tradition of turkey, and having cherry chicken with couscous and cauliflower with holandaise sauce--easy-peasy, no muss, no fuss, no bother), so I've got all this time on my hands, no tele to watch, saving my DVD's for later on tonight...so, gotta' do something to amuse myself: "I know!" Says I, "I'll pick on David Tennant!"

Well, okay, I didn't actually say that. I'm just bored and messing about. Sorry DT, wherever you are.

So, what do you think, ey? See a resemblance, or...not?

(PS: check out the photo! I wonder, was Tennant drunk or did he just come from a quick shag--'cuse the rude pun, it was unintentional-- Notice the dishevled and mis-buttoned shirt)

Yup, as my late mum used to say, "you can always choose your friends, but you can't choose your relatives!"

I was bored, so I put the tree up. I put on the James Bond soundtrack CD that a friend just sent me (bless), and hauled that artifical sucker out of the closet...the branches didn't want to stay on, and it was a rather sorry bedraggled mess, after being crammed into a small closet after a year, but she's up.

Of course, I had my Christmas traditional, something-just-has-to-go-wrong-while-putting-up-the-tree bit. I got the first strand of lights unraveled and strung on the tree--when I noticed I'd done the wrong end. The plug that goes in the extension cord, generally goes on the floor--I had it dangling from the treetop...not a helluva lot of use there, is it?

Mind you, Flame is in full=blown heat, which means I'm trying to get the tree un-mucked, with James Bond tunes playing, accompained by: RRROOOW, RRROWWW, YOWWWL, RAAAGH! (that last one is her throaty, Doctor's companion being attacked by a monster type of shriek), RRROW, RRROW...

For the past four hours, mind you...going on five, now! Every time I think she's shut her gob, something sets her off and she's at it again...god, I hope she doesn't get me evicted.

I'm not having a fun evening here, folks.

But, got the lights on, the ornaments on--lost some ornament hangers, but not going to worry about it, there's decorations enough on the tree, and no one's likely ever going to see it indoors, anyway. It's only about 36 inches tall, so I have it on top of my octogonal table that sits in front the front windows. All the blue and white lights seem to be working, this year, which is great! No running around like a loon, trying to find matching replacements.

I never thought I'd go for an "unnstural" Christmas tree--that is, something that doesn't actually look like a real pine tree--but I rather like this one.

However, there are some truly ugly trees out there, for instance:

I'm sorry, but I just really think this looks ridiculous:

Erm--take it from someone who's been there, done that and got the tee shirt to prove it--Eastern White Pine sucks as a Christmas tree!

I'm sure at least some of us has heard the saying--or perhaps, has even said, "...that only happens once in a blue moon."

Now, just how often is that, might you ask?

Well, there's the "real" blue moon, like you get in winter time--where the moon is so bright, it casts deep shadows and makes the snow glow blue. I can say, with utmost authority, that being in the winter woods and/or fields, under a blue moon, is almost a religious experience. It's a high one can never in their life, ever get from a controlled substance. And, unlike an artifical high, the feeling stays with you forever, years after the moment has passed, just by the grace of your own memory of it. Because, once you've experienced it, a blue moon lives inside you forever.

But, there's other "blue moon's out there: