So in the mail today I got my first holiday gift for my business. One of my clients is seriously on top of their game. And it was pretty standard formal business speak:

Happy Holidays to PCC from So-and-So at XYZ Company, Inc. 

Thanks for all your work on the website throughout the past year. 

Love you.

Yay for dads with their own businesses! 

Because then I get popcorn. 

So I assume I'm late to the party, but I just read an article on a security guard who was trampled to death in a Walmart on "Black Friday" by shoppers rushing to get the best deals.

What the fuck is wrong with us as a culture? Seriously.

It just brings out so much anger because I think it's sort of a symptom of a society that is obsessed with consumerism—obsessed with getting the best stuff for themselves at the detriment of others. Obsessed with getting a supposed deal (while many of the items are made for like a dollar in a third world country). And they are so focused on that precious deal that they would ignore the fact that there's a man on the floor below them dying.

I worry about this country. A lot. I worry that we forget about the people around us in the pursuit of just getting more for us. More money. More possessions. More stuff. It's not healthy.

So when I was in Arizona toward the end of the trip I started getting the sniffles. I figured my allergies were acting up with the different climate. So I figured it would just go away once I got home.

Yeah. This morning I woke up with a full-blown cold.

Leave it to me to go visit a warmer clime and come home with a cold.

Ah, Sunday.

I got home late last night from Phoenix, where I spent Thanksgiving. I was down there with the rest of the family for a cousin's wedding. It was wonderful.

And as an added bonus my aunt mentioned to my mom that there was a Dale Chihuly installation at the Arboretum nearby. His glass sculptures intermingled among the cactii and other desert flora. I had only ever seen the Chihuly piece that's at the MIA (Minneapolis Institute of Arts) in the foyer.

I can't even explain how amazing it was. Words have no meaning and no relevance to it. The beauty was insurmountable.

Anyway, the flight home was delayed by over an hour. Which meant that my friend who kept watch over little Ramona (and had my keys because of her duties) had to stay up extra late, despite the fact that she was completely sick. So when I got there I expected to find my friend either asleep or at the very least, dazed.

What I found was a roaring backyard fire, my friend and her husband, and about five neighbors seated around it, enjoying the heat and the night. So I ended up hanging out for a few hours. There is nothing like coming home from a long trip to hang out with friends (as I have come to think of her neighbors).

But it lead to a rather... interesting conversation.

I was in the house and my friend was finding me a jacket to wear (I had flown home in just a hoodie sweater) when her husband came in to talk to me.

Now just to clarify: her husband is South African and although he's been in the US for quite a long time he still has a heavy accent. So sometimes he's hard to understand.

He sidled up to me in the kitchen and sort of got really mysterious and was trying to ask me something. But he was really just being odd about it. He kept telling me he had something. He had something. But he wouldn't tell me what it was.

I honestly thought he had scored some weed but didn't know how to mention that maybe he had some and wanted to share.

But no. He didn't have weed. He finally told me that he had mushrooms. A lot of mushrooms. And would I like to have any?

Woah.

So I sort of stumbled through an explanation. "Thanks for offering, and although I don't have a problem with people using drugs, it's just not my thing. I really don't want any mushrooms." Because it really isn't. And I was sort of taken aback that he would have them.

At this point my friend kind of stepped in, got the idea of what was going on, and just started laughing.

Because (as she explained to me through gales of laughter) he was mysteriously offering me gravy. Mushroom gravy.

"I'm like the Lord of the fucking Dance. I got moves."

Dean Dean Dean. Darlin', you look good no matter what decade you're in. You're also eeeevil.

Work has slowed down this week. And by slowed down, I mean I'm no longer working 14 hour days and tearing the hair out of my head. Which is good. The bald spots were getting noticeable. As was the lack of sleep.

I went out to dinner with my mom when she got off from work tonight. After working 14 hour days for the last few I was ready to leave the house and face the cold comfort of fresh November air.

So we went to a Noodles & Co. by her house. And since all the booths were taken we were sort of in the middle of the restaurant. And after awhile a few booths opened up, and a group of giggly, cute high school girls took one in the corner.

A bit later a stream of about six of their friends came bursting in the door, yelling and giggling, clearly excited about something that had happened to one of them. So they all clustered around the booth and started gabbing a mile a minute.

And I couldn't help but notice that as soon as they streamed in a table next to us got up and moved further away.

Which wouldn't have made me think twice, really, but I saw it was a high school girl and her mom. And just by the way the girl kept looking kind of sadly at the table of gigglers, you could tell she knew them. And they didn't know her. Or didn't care to.

My heart just broke. I remember those days. Hanging out on many a Friday night, not with a bunch of high school chums, but with a bunch of my parents' friends. Who were great company and I had a blast, but in the back of your mind you can't forget the fact that you don't have high school friends to hang out with.

It does get better.

Happy Veteran's Day!

Both of my Grandpas served in WWII. One was in the Army (in the division that was the Air Force before there was an Air Force). The other was in the Navy. I think they both married my Grandmas when they were home on leave.

And I have several uncles who served in Vietnam. All in the Navy, come to think of it.

I promise not to post pictures. You've seen enough of my relatives in uniform.

Anyway, thoughts for the day go out to everyone who served or is serving currently. You have done a service to this country that people who have not served will never truly understand. Least of all me. THANK YOU.

I miss working at the print shop on days like these. Why? Because the shop was around the corner from this huge senior living high rise. And these 80 or 90-year-old guys would come in, dressed in their full uniforms with medals shining, and want to tell their story. All of which were amazing. Oh crap! I wrote about my favorite. Hang on.

Found it. From April 2006:

A lot of the older folks who come into the shop refuse to attempt to use the self-serve copier and I've learned it's just easier to do it for them. I actually don't mind because most are so sweet and thankful.

And I have no idea how it came up, but I was helping one gentleman today and he told me he was on the USS Nevada during Pearl Harbor.

Woah. You don't tell a history major something like that without providing more details. PEARL HARBOR.

For those playing along, the USS Nevada was the only battleship at Pearl Harbor able to attempt a sortie during the attack. It almost got out of the harbor, but the decision was made to run it into the mud because of reported enemy submarines just outside of the harbor. Which was completely the right decision.

My friend had actually been heading off to breakfast when the Japanese attack started and it sounded like he was stationed on the bridge during the bombing. He made the decision to go one way while the others with him went the opposite. They died, he lived. It was that arbitrary on such a tragic day.

He did end our conversation by reassuring me that he eventually got breakfast (and a place to sleep) at a nearby hotel later that day.

And I realize half these stories may seem made up, but he really did assure me he got breakfast.

And I hope he won't get mad at me, but a special hello and thanks to someone currently serving overseas. Dude, that's what you get for emailing me. Like it or not, you're in my thoughts.