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Feb. 9th, 2005 10:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stormdogI had a better time than I'd actually expected at my grandfather's birthday party over the weekend. Despite it being a 'grown-up' occasion requiring me to put on a button-up shirt and my work shoes (which I of course left in Wisconsin. Oops.). I enjoyed seeing all my extended family again and even a few of my grandfather's friends from the farrier's industry, though honestly I didn't get to talk to them much. They generally know each other a lot better than I know any of them so they naturally spent a commensurate amount of time talking to each other and not so much to me. I'm ok with that; I was enjoying just being around them. I get to talk to people a little more when it's just my grandparents and aunts and uncles at the maybe-monthly smaller gatherings.
There was a posterboard up with lots of pictures of my grandfather; from him as a baby all the way through holding his youngest grandchildren on his knee. Andrea and I both loved seeing the one of him reading to a perhaps four or five year old![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stormdog. The other one that struck me was one that grandpa tells me his father took of him. He is probably my brother's age, mid-teens, and leaning against a couple of wagon-wheels propped against the side of what I assume is a barn. Something about that picture, and the different time, place, and world it offered a glimpse of, really embedded itself in my mind. Several things from the evening made me wish I knew my grandfather better. I've always been so shy around people and I've never quite gotten completely comfortable with him or any of my extended family. They're all great people; I just don't see them enough to be relaxed and unselfconscious around them. I've tried to call them on the phone from time to time and it's nice to talk to them that way, but I'm no good on the phone to begin with and I always feel awkward. But, as Andrea told me, it's never too late to start. One of the reasons I'm glad to be moving back to the area is that I'll have more of a chance to see them and try to get to know them better.
On to the other aspects of the party. The food was excellent. There was stuffed chick breast and roast beef and poppy seed rolls and other stuff of that sort, but I ended up not eating much of it. The caterer who brought the hot food was a bit late and, while waiting, my brothers and I ate the excellent cheese, shrimp, brownies, and these wonderful little chocolate-topped vanilla-creamy tidbits. Oh, heavenly. I probably ate too much, but that's ok.
Lara had brought her laptop with so we opened it up on the end of a table and I entertained she and my brothers with the movies I happened to have on my USB drive that I carry around with me. Two clips of malfunctioning high voltage switching equipment and one of an electrical distribution substation going up in flames. They enjoyed seeing them; we are a strange and geeky people.
Speaking of strange and geeky, Lara and I were both fascinated by the books on display in the lobby of the hotel. They were beautiful books. Leather-bound turn of the century editions of Dickens, London, and other classics with painted and gilt page edges and full of beautiful vintage illustration. They were all in amazingly good condition too. The catch: they were all in some Norwegian dialect. The pages were full of 'Ǿ's, and 'ǽ's and entirely unreadable to we poor uncultured folks. However, being the lit geeks that we are, we were still enraptured, particularly by a gorgeous copy of a Jules Verne compilation from the late 1800s, complete with illustrations of balloons and native peoples of questionable political correctness.
We tried to figure out what to do about these books. We felt that they needed to be somehow rescued, but were a little uncomfortable with the idea of just walking out with them. Finally we approached the guy behind the front desk. Young and somewhat lackadaisical in appearance, we hoped he might be sympathetic to our desire or, failing that, not care if we walked off with the books. Our hopes were not in vain. He basically said that no one had ever asked that before, that he had no idea who to ask, and that we should, essentially, just pack them under our coats and not say anything. Lara ended up with the Verne compilation. Lucky girl. She even had enough German experience (apparently it's related to Norwegian) to puzzle out one of the titles. I have an early century edition of a Jack London work that I can't identify. It's been too long since I took German. That's ok though; it's still cool.
At this point, it's back to working, studying, and shipping. Stuff is going out of the house considerably faster than it's coming in and this is a good thing. Still haven't made any cleaning progress; we're just trying to get to the point where that's practically possible. It's a long road, but it's a profitable one.
Back to work, and writing, now. It's a slow day and I'm trying to catch up on the couple of little pieces I've been working on so I can fill up my journal with more entries that nobody wants to wade through. Like this one. 'Till later...
There was a posterboard up with lots of pictures of my grandfather; from him as a baby all the way through holding his youngest grandchildren on his knee. Andrea and I both loved seeing the one of him reading to a perhaps four or five year old
stormdog. The other one that struck me was one that grandpa tells me his father took of him. He is probably my brother's age, mid-teens, and leaning against a couple of wagon-wheels propped against the side of what I assume is a barn. Something about that picture, and the different time, place, and world it offered a glimpse of, really embedded itself in my mind. Several things from the evening made me wish I knew my grandfather better. I've always been so shy around people and I've never quite gotten completely comfortable with him or any of my extended family. They're all great people; I just don't see them enough to be relaxed and unselfconscious around them. I've tried to call them on the phone from time to time and it's nice to talk to them that way, but I'm no good on the phone to begin with and I always feel awkward. But, as Andrea told me, it's never too late to start. One of the reasons I'm glad to be moving back to the area is that I'll have more of a chance to see them and try to get to know them better.On to the other aspects of the party. The food was excellent. There was stuffed chick breast and roast beef and poppy seed rolls and other stuff of that sort, but I ended up not eating much of it. The caterer who brought the hot food was a bit late and, while waiting, my brothers and I ate the excellent cheese, shrimp, brownies, and these wonderful little chocolate-topped vanilla-creamy tidbits. Oh, heavenly. I probably ate too much, but that's ok.
Lara had brought her laptop with so we opened it up on the end of a table and I entertained she and my brothers with the movies I happened to have on my USB drive that I carry around with me. Two clips of malfunctioning high voltage switching equipment and one of an electrical distribution substation going up in flames. They enjoyed seeing them; we are a strange and geeky people.
Speaking of strange and geeky, Lara and I were both fascinated by the books on display in the lobby of the hotel. They were beautiful books. Leather-bound turn of the century editions of Dickens, London, and other classics with painted and gilt page edges and full of beautiful vintage illustration. They were all in amazingly good condition too. The catch: they were all in some Norwegian dialect. The pages were full of 'Ǿ's, and 'ǽ's and entirely unreadable to we poor uncultured folks. However, being the lit geeks that we are, we were still enraptured, particularly by a gorgeous copy of a Jules Verne compilation from the late 1800s, complete with illustrations of balloons and native peoples of questionable political correctness.
We tried to figure out what to do about these books. We felt that they needed to be somehow rescued, but were a little uncomfortable with the idea of just walking out with them. Finally we approached the guy behind the front desk. Young and somewhat lackadaisical in appearance, we hoped he might be sympathetic to our desire or, failing that, not care if we walked off with the books. Our hopes were not in vain. He basically said that no one had ever asked that before, that he had no idea who to ask, and that we should, essentially, just pack them under our coats and not say anything. Lara ended up with the Verne compilation. Lucky girl. She even had enough German experience (apparently it's related to Norwegian) to puzzle out one of the titles. I have an early century edition of a Jack London work that I can't identify. It's been too long since I took German. That's ok though; it's still cool.
At this point, it's back to working, studying, and shipping. Stuff is going out of the house considerably faster than it's coming in and this is a good thing. Still haven't made any cleaning progress; we're just trying to get to the point where that's practically possible. It's a long road, but it's a profitable one.
Back to work, and writing, now. It's a slow day and I'm trying to catch up on the couple of little pieces I've been working on so I can fill up my journal with more entries that nobody wants to wade through. Like this one. 'Till later...
