flewellyn | Well, here's how Thanksgiving went...

My father arrived on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, and was...himself! It was a huge relief, I can tell you. He was in a good mood, didn't make sniping comments about the state of the apartment, etc. We talked of many things, of course. And we watched movies, ate food, and the like.

This is not to say that he said nothing about the state of my apartment. He did; it was just constructive. He had brought with him a Steam Zapper, a potent hand-held high-pressure steam blaster which is used for cleaning. You blast surfaces with the steam, which sterilizes and melts off gunk, and then just wipe it up. We used this to clean my kitchen, my bathroom (which he said had gotten to "Worst Toilet in Scotland" levels), and many other things. We also did other cleaning and such, including my fridge. It apparently had had mostly science experiments in it for about a year now.

Doing it together, and with humor, was quite a fun experience, actually. Even if the horrid stench wasn't.

In other happenings, we also went up to Benson County, the portion of North Dakota that my dad's relatives come from, to visit Norma the Elder, the grand dowager of the clan. (Her daughter in law is also named Norma Swanson, so I call them Norma the Elder and Norma the Younger. Like Pliny, you know? They both got it immediately.) She was usually at the gathering in Fargo each year, but this year she'd had some vertigo that kept her from attending. Plus, she'd just moved into an assisted living place, and was still sorting her stuff out. Granted, the assisted living place was just a block away from her old house, and her
grandson's family was moving into the place, but it was still stressful moving. So, up we went to see her.

I expected mid-state North Dakota to be barren and desolate, but it was surprisingly beautiful. Flat, yes. Wind-swept, yes. But the sky is always something to see out there, especially at sunset. And the land rolled a bit, unlike around Fargo, where it's flatter than Calista Flockheart. (Oh, yes, I went there.)

It was more than that, though. The land spirits of the place were different. It felt...I dunno, like home. Especially in Maddock, the town Norma lives in. It's a town of about 500 people, maybe half of whom are relatives in some way. It's very quiet, and peaceful, and you can walk in the streets without worrying about traffic much. And it just felt...right. We arrived in town and immediately I felt like I wanted to move there. Of course, there wouldn't be much work for me to do, but the urge was there.

Norma herself was much as I remembered her, a sprightly 90 year old woman (91, actually) who, while moving a bit slow, could still cook wonderfully, and tell the most outrageously off-color jokes. She seems like someone for whom time basically has no terror, because all it can do is slow down the body.

A few highlights: "Yeah, I don't have enough chicken, so I'll get this can of Hormel corned beef out. Reuben, you may not want it, it'll probably remind you too much of K-rations from the Army. Oh, speaking of spam, I was trying out that new computer Jim got me, and I got an email 'offer' for something I wasn't sure I wanted to understand. No, I take that back, I'm pretty sure I didn't want to." Or how about "Yeah, this getting-old business is getting serious. I'd better stop, it's starting to annoy me." Or maybe "What, you're a Democrat too? Well, how's it feel to be unpatriotic like me?"

Yeah, she's a fun lady. And she cooks great chicken drumsticks, too.

So, to make a long story short (too late), it was a wonderful Thanksgiving. Quite the opposite of what I feared, and better than I'd hoped for.