Our genial host, just back from an anger management class
Not that the lovely couple who we went to visit were actual Gods, but they had long since achieved that status with me. Hell, anyone who doesn’t complain about my presence is nice. Those who have the occasional kind word for or about me are saints. And those who invite me into their home for an extended visit, are surely Gods. Since we had to drive 500 miles of paved highways to meet them, they truly are The Gods Of Asphalt.
A FEW of the son’s collection of skulls
3-D printers have become affordable for the average geek. A son-in-law of the daughter’s friend acquired one, and started fooling around learning its secrets. First, my son was given the larger, softball-sized skull. It’s thermo-optic. If sufficiently warmed, it changes from grey to white. Later, the golf ball-sized, darker grey one was added. They are all low-density plastic, and float like corks.
The son’s two skulls at the back – the two Voodoo, “Impeach Trump” skulls, going to DC, in front
My limited etiquette knowledge only told me that a Hostess gift was good manners – and one for the host might also be a good idea. Our handsome host instructed me not to spend much money, and assured me that it was our presence that they valued, not presents. Still…. a few gewgaws to demonstrate Canadian my twisted culture.
One of the pair collects skulls, like my son does. I obtained another couple of the smaller ones. I leave it to you to guess which one is the blood-thirsty spouse.
Amethyst is supposed to foster peace and tranquility. After adding skulls to the home of a skull-collector, and an ex-tank-driver, I felt that we needed all the tranquility we could get. Since our host is Plus-sized, and his diminutive bride has trouble seeing over a garden hose, I brought a large chunk, and a smaller piece.
The best, darkest, amethyst now comes from Brazil, because most of the good stuff has been removed from mines just north of Lake Superior, in Ontario. The daughter visited an online friend up there, a couple of winters ago. She had just returned from a saved-for summer trip before we set out. It is possible to walk the shores and occasionally find a good piece that a retreating glacier dug up, so these pieces were from both us, and from her.
In return for throwing me a fabulous online birthday party, I once promised our hostess a 55-gallon drum of fresh, pure, Canadian maple syrup. Of course, like most promises that men make to women, I wasn’t able to delivery anything that big. Still, since our hosts had been so sweet to us, I felt compelled to bring along 2 liters (half a gallon for the non-metric Americans) of freshly-squeezed, Mennonite Maple Juice for them. If you hear of an IHOP or Denny’s in the DC area going bankrupt, it’s because they aren’t going out for Sunday brunch till this is gone.
Actually, years of residence in New Hampshire has made her a bit of a syrup snob. Like Florida has laws that translate, “Don’t f**k with the citrus, especially oranges.” Vermont also has strict rules against messing with the maples. She would have requested some Maple syrup; but felt that it might be illegal to export. Nobody asked me about maple syrup at the border, and she was thrilled to get the real stuff, cooking everyone blueberry pancakes the first morning.
I told this little old guy that it was really important to me, and go out and squeeze his Maplest tree for my kind hosts. He said that he would be happy to…. or maybe it was, ‘crazy English’…. something like that. Coming up soon, a post about all the great stuff we brought back – aside from treasured memories, and happy hearts.
Since I have re-read them all over the last two years, and because our host is a great classic Sci-Fi fan, I offered him copies of every E.E. (Doc) Smith book that I possess, 24 out of the 25 that he wrote. Always a fan of Robert A. Heinlein’s works, I felt that he might appreciate obtaining copies of the seminal Space-Opera novels written by Heinlein’s mentor.
While I regard them as inexpensive paperbacks, many printed before he was born, he recognised their rarity, difficulty of obtaining, and the fact that they were collector’s items. I usually don’t mind being kissed, just not by him. Their value to me is that someone who really appreciates them, now possesses them. He said that he didn’t even know what order to read them in….and then found that I had obsessively boxed them up in chronological order.