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Back from Fairfield. The last 36 hours were spent suboptimally; I touched the face of boredom, though I managed not to slide into its howling maw. The answer to "Gee, should I take my laptop?" is yes. Even in internetless places it's a toychest and writing desk, and these can keep me occupied for quite a while. But I chose poorly, and so had only a novel and an iPod, the latter with no ability to recharge. I made do, barely.
I think I've already complained about my whole family (parent and brothers both) being made into racist paranoid goobers by their fears being reinforced and amplified through all the Fox my parents watch and the Art Bell that Ricky listens to, and probably by their local culture as well. I keep forgetting this, and I tend to forget again it a few minutes after every reminder, because, you know, family.
But they are so scared of the Saracen Menace. I mean, honestly, it haunts them. Half of the conversations we had veered into some graveyard-humor joke pointing to the inevitable day when the skies would darken and the Muslims would come raining down, scouring the earth with their acid breath and terrible steel mandibles, unstoppable in their mithril carapaces and vulnerability only to weapons of +2 or greater enchantment. Or whatever, I don't know.
And a lesson in humility for me: Peter spoke excitedly about the Xmas bonus he got, a $50 Hannaford's supermarket certficate, and his wife's $10 cash bonus from her full-time volunteer job. $60 worth of groceries! He was honestly excited at this bounty. Meanwhile I practically blow that much on coffee in a week.
Other than that this was the first time all three McIntosh sons and both parents were gathered together in I-don't-know-how-long. More than two years. The total time of the full convergence was one hour, long enough to eat dinner. It was a fine dinner. I told my mother I'd have to teach her how to steam vegetables, though.
Mom and dad are coming coming down with the cat the day after tomorrow. They sent me home with a truly silly amount of cat stuff, but Shadow won't be wanting at least.
(Deleted the voice post that came before this post.)
I think I've already complained about my whole family (parent and brothers both) being made into racist paranoid goobers by their fears being reinforced and amplified through all the Fox my parents watch and the Art Bell that Ricky listens to, and probably by their local culture as well. I keep forgetting this, and I tend to forget again it a few minutes after every reminder, because, you know, family.
But they are so scared of the Saracen Menace. I mean, honestly, it haunts them. Half of the conversations we had veered into some graveyard-humor joke pointing to the inevitable day when the skies would darken and the Muslims would come raining down, scouring the earth with their acid breath and terrible steel mandibles, unstoppable in their mithril carapaces and vulnerability only to weapons of +2 or greater enchantment. Or whatever, I don't know.
And a lesson in humility for me: Peter spoke excitedly about the Xmas bonus he got, a $50 Hannaford's supermarket certficate, and his wife's $10 cash bonus from her full-time volunteer job. $60 worth of groceries! He was honestly excited at this bounty. Meanwhile I practically blow that much on coffee in a week.
Other than that this was the first time all three McIntosh sons and both parents were gathered together in I-don't-know-how-long. More than two years. The total time of the full convergence was one hour, long enough to eat dinner. It was a fine dinner. I told my mother I'd have to teach her how to steam vegetables, though.
Mom and dad are coming coming down with the cat the day after tomorrow. They sent me home with a truly silly amount of cat stuff, but Shadow won't be wanting at least.
(Deleted the voice post that came before this post.)