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It’s late. My daughter and her friend from down the street are playing their Christmas music from band. Today we all went and cut a tree down for Christmas at the Elgin Christmas Tree Farm. It takes a bit longer , but it is something we have been doing for the last 15 years with our kids. We sit in a trailer of hay pulled by a tractor out to the fields where we wander about looking at hundreds of trees. It is goofy, but fun in a middle america kind of way.
I started reading “Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee” a couple of days ago; it is good, but depressing. Kind of like reading Holocaust books: you know how it ends, but you read it anyway to the inevitable end. It is nice to read something because I chose it rather than what I have to read for classes. I like the books for class, but I would rather read what I want. I have a list that I will attempt over the Christmas break, and before class starts up in the spring. I am always more ambitious than I really have time for, but a valiant effort will be made anyway. It reminds me of when I was little and would pile my plate at family Christmas gatherings because everything looked great. My mom always warned me that my eyes were bigger than my stomach. Now my plans are bigger than my head. With luck it will not be like the diner in “The Meaning of Life:” just one more mint, what can it hurt?