Well, it’s been quite a holiday here in the ancestral homeland–everyone got here safely for the holiday celebrations, but it looks like our ride home next week will be a little more complicated, thanks to the latest wannbe-Jihadi’s attempt on an American airliner. Thanks a lot, a$$hole! We still have to take our frakkin’ shoes off every time we go through airport security eight years after “shoe bomber” a$$hole Richard Reid tried to set his chucks alight. I wonder what new meaningless ritual inconvenience awaits us now? Let me guess: no more pixie sticks and juice boxes allowed in our carry-on bags, because this a$$hole tried to mix a powder with a liquid. (Does Homeland Security know about the explosive properties of Pop Rocks? Because I don’t want to fly if anyone is carrying Pop Rocks.)
On a happier note: here are a few images from our Christmas here in the Northwest Territory:
The sugar cookie house was a sugar cookie tent this year, due to austerity measures. (The gingerbread cookies’ house is in foreclosure, and it seemed easier to move them into a tent instead of try to bake and assemble a car for them to live in.) I resisted putting a “Bushobamaville” flag up next to it, a la “Hooverville” encampments from the Depression.
Here’s one of a set of seven (?) very atomic-era glasses I found for Mister Doctor, so that he might enjoy an occasional nip of bourbon. The local antique mall here is a gold mine–it’s the same place I found all of those dolls last summer. A few years back I found the two-volume translation of Lafitau’s Customs of the American Indians, edited and translated by William Fenton and Elizabeth Moore for about $70. (Most of you won’t be impressed, but those of you who write seventeenth and eighteenth century Native American history will know what a score that was. It’s one of a numbered edition published by the Champlain Society–only a few hundred were published, and I’ve never seen them outside of a university library.)
You never know what might turn up there: I was expressly forbidden again to buy the creepy doll head there on this trip, because a member of the family finds it “too scary.” Whatever. (I can’t believe no one else has snapped her up!)
Oh, and thanks to a marathon of Mythbusters on the teevee last night, I learned that one can in fact buff a turd. Who knew? (Hint: it doesn’t involve any polish!)