Fourth Thursday in November and Stuff

Happy Black Friday! Stay the F*CK at home, All Y’ALL!

In the last post I wondered at the difference I saw in the flat bronze veteran markers in the local historic cemetery to my husband’s grandfather’s upright marble marker and what accounted for the different styles.

Exhibit A my husband’s grandfather style of stone
Exhibit B and the type of all markers in the local historic cemetery

So I did some research because why the hell not and turns out there is also a marble flat option for a stone, all available from the Veteran’s Affairs office, but that the cemetery itself is the one to call which they allow. So all a matter of taste of a cemetery administrator and not due to rank, or war, or branch of the military. I will bet ALL the money that the cemetery administrator in my hometown just picked the flat plaques because they’d be easier to mow around.

So. Not anything really interesting learned there. Well, aside from the fact that there is a special stone available to Civil War veterans, but for Union soldiers only. Which let me just say: Mwwwaaa: (that’s the fingers to lips kiss move that chefs make, just fyi.)

Exhibit C: Union Civil War Veteran stone. Also- That 43 USCI is the Pennsylvania United States Colored Infantry which… badass there, Milton!

Oh. And I also learned the only stones that look different from all other veteran stones are the Civil War and Spanish American war veteran stones which have the shield emblems on them.

Exhibit D: Spanish American War headstone. I’m not sure I would have abbreviated the Spanish American War as SPAM WAR

Man, I guess that’s actually quite a few cool things.

In other news we had my parents over for Thanksgiving, ate too much, and then were uncomfortably full and wiped out for the rest of the day.

My husband smoked turkeys and we swapped one with my aunt who made a bunch of sides: it was equal parts barter system and love. My folks brought a bunch of stuff too, including a tiny turkey my mom had roasted for just about the sole purpose of making pan gravy from it.

My sole piece of Thanksgiving decor; a gift from my sister-in-law and it’s so freaking DEAR to me. It reminds me of this one awesome day in the dust and the sun and the press of people on a Mexican street, wandering around with a beer in our hands with her, my brother-in-law, and my husband. I’m thankful of such memories right now.

We didn’t do the standard thing about going around and all declaring “what you’re thankful for” at the table. I had prepared to say: “Our health, imperfect as it may be, and the time we had with those we love who are no longer here.” I didn’t get the chance because as the hostess I didn’t make it happen, and I’m cool with that. I could tell my Mom wanted to jump in and start it and then restrained herself since it wasn’t her house and call. Thankful for that too.

My Dad is a musician and so brought his guitar and was teaching my oldest how to play House of the Rising Sun while we were getting ready to eat. He seldom goes anywhere without some kind of instrument- I’m just glad it wasn’t the banjo this time. He also brought his very favorite case:

He’s had this case for 40 years. The bottle, significantly less.

Speaking of Thanksgiving, I actually was meaning to put a blog post together about things this pandemic has made me thankful for, or the opportunities its provided, something like that.

But I guess it just really boils down to learning to make the best of small celebrations, making Jeff Bezos rich, and appreciating the opportunity to find a new and preferred brand of bread, frozen corn, and All-Purpose cleanser because our usual brands were sold out. Now I’ve blogged about some banal shit, but waxing poetic about frozen corn was just a bridge too far even for me, so a mention here is all they get.

In the garden the chickens are leaving the snapdragons and pansies alone but being really annoying about eating my violas.

Love these dark purple pansies- what is that, velvet?
My favorite pot (don’t tell the other pots) with Dinosaur Kale and these maroon pansies. All kale had to move into taller pots to keep them away from the idiot chickens.

In other, other news- also real thankful for a husband who indulges my every coup drink wishes with such skill.

Was a mix between a Fitzgerald and a White Lady. I call it the White Guilt. (it’s a smidge heavy on the Bitters. That’s not a joke, though I know it sounds like it)

It yet another complete non-sequitur, we’re not a “dog bed” type of house… except now we actually are.

I got him a foam bed as an impulse buy a few weeks ago because he was a bit stiff getting up a few times this year. He rubs in what an ass I am for not getting one for him years ago by lying down on it ALL the time.

And finally:

This made me laugh.

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