Since I Went Away

So, finally, six weeks after our return, I have reached the first of November.

Somehow, I really can't remember much of what happened in November. I did my stints at the Center, on Monday and Wednesday evenings, and most of my free time was spent processing Paris photos, both mine and David's, and setting up the blog entries. And, of course, there was a Thanksgiving with folks from the Center. I provided the mashed potatoes, as was my tradition with my own family when Mom still did the whole turkey-cooking and multi-side-dish making thing.

I think she got it right when she just started taking everyone out to Thanksgiving dinner at a restaurant. The one year I remember especially was at Spyglass Inn, because they gave everyone leftovers to take home. Now that's classy. I'm thinking that might be my M.O. next year, since I can't see myself going the whole nine yards with the turkey and e'ything.

I've only done that once, and it was for just Steve and I. Kittie and David did come down and help mount a Thanksgiving feast in Pasadena. I just remember having a whole head of cauliflower slathered in cheese sauce for just three people.

So that was November. On December 1st, Pam and Steve and Amanda, sans Natalie, came over and helped me lug Christmas up from the basement. We got quite a bit done in one afternoon, but I was left with the chore of putting all the ornaments on the tree. This was not because of anyone else's neglect; it's because I really take a long time to get them all on positioned the way I like them, distribution wise.

So I had just about gotten all of them on the tree and Christmas would be up and functioning when, one afternoon while browsing through Facebook and our local Rummage Sale page, I found a listing for 20 of those little porcelain house that people collect and put under their tree or in dioramas on a table or shelves.

I'd always liked those little buildings, lighted up inside, but I never had the patience to collect them year after year. So I admired them in other people's homes (Sandy Beck, I'm referring to you), but only had one or two of my own. My sister-in-law Carla had given me one as a present one Christmas, but it got dropped and broke. Perhaps that's why I never collected.

So, yeah; 20 porcelain buildings, also including a little creek running through them, with a bridge and a sleigh, lamp posts and little people. They were all in original boxes. The woman, named Leslie, was asking $125.

Look at all these great houses! Each on its own box.

I had never done a private purchase online, and it soon became obvious is was going to assume the tension and anonymity of a drug buy. I even took out cash for the transaction, as she had requested. After a couple messages back and forth, we agreed to meet Tuesday at 7 p.m. in the parking lot of Shopko on the South end of town. (If La Crosse has a "bad" part of town, it's the south end … well, and the north end, too. Those of us here in the middle are, well, in the middle.)

Now, I had also arranged to meet on Tuesday late afternoon with Anne, a woman who has organized a performance group here town known as The Alternative Truth Project. They basically facilitate readings and limited productions of socially and politically relevant theater. It sounded like the kind of group I would be interested in, so she and I got together at JavaVino, a fairly hip place that serves really good coffee and fairly decent food. We had neither.

Turns out Anne had worked extensively in L.A. in the entertainment industry, even working with Carl Sagan on Cosmos and several other television productions. It was really refreshing to talk with someone who understood the gestalt of Hollywood and The Biz. I gave her a manuscript copy of "The White Crow" from my theater files and told her it was something I would be interested in directing.

When we got to talking about the local theater scene, I told her about my experience with David Kirkpatrick and working the stage crew on "Boeing, Boeing." She said the guy was a jerk, and that the impression I had gotten about the place being cliquish was wrong. She told me to get ahold of the guy who was now running the company; that most of the directors they had for this season had never directed before. I think I'll give it a chance.

When we parted ways at JavaVino, it was about an hour before my planned meeting down at Shopko, so I grabbed a taco salad and drove down, sat in the parking lot and ate my dinner.

I had sent a selfie to Leslie so she would know what I looked like and told her I would be in a white Saturn sedan (yes, my car is that old: "What's a Saturn?"). She was on time, found me, and we drove to a vacant area of the huge parking lot. I passed her the cash and she passed me the houses, one by one by one one by one by one one by one by one one by one by one one by one by one one by one by one one by one, and then two more boxes with the creek and sundries.

I filled up the trunk of the car and ended up with four boxes in the back seat. It's in the teens or 20s, weatherwise, so unloading the car at home got me really chilly, as I was only in my semi-frigid coat. Even with gloves, I was glad to get inside with all these new purchases. I had boxes stacked everywhere.

It was like my own special Christmas morning, opening each box. These houses were obviously loved. Each was still in its original styrofoam packing, wrapped in its original plastic bag. There wasn't a chip or crack on any of them.

So this weekend, Amanda is coming into town to help me put these up and make them pretty! Since each has its own single bulb, cord and plug, I have to pick up several power strips just to plug them all in safely. When I had them all out, ready to take the above picture, I realized this purchase has added about 30% to my holiday storage volume, something I won't have to deal with until at least Epiphany. Luckily, there's room on the shelves in the basement.

So, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah (what's left of it) and Happy New Year, if I don't make another post before those salutations are appropriate. And I leave you with this: