Thanksgiving {belated is understating it}

Thanksgiving in Wortham, Texas. Population 1107.  We made it about 1117, which definitely has a better ring to it.

Man-show managed two not-at-all-minor injuries during the road trip up there, but in the end he decided not to test the medical capabilities of very-small-town Texas.

And for that, I am deeply, deeply thankful. 

 

A little fox

I'm ashamed of how hopeless I've been at posting here.

Perhaps I can distract you with a picture of the latest Sweet Olive Press letterpress birth announcement?  I drew the little fox myself. I printed it myself. I really have nothing more to say for myself.

Maybe tomorrow...

. . .

But no thanks

I brought Berry the remains of her hot chocolate and asked, "Do you want your marshmallows before I throw this away?" And she said, "No, you can eat them if you want." 

Temptation by slightly-preloved marshmallow is not in my repertoire, but I appreciate the thought.

 

. . .

Vanilla Twilight?

. . .

I'm so glad I listened to Owl City's Ocean Eyes over and over and over when Man-show was a baby.

Even two years later I can put him on my shoulder, hit play, and watch it kick in like a very, very magic sleeping pill.

. . .

All I want for Christmas...

Yesterday a giant, mysterious, red-papered box appeared on our doorstep, and the kids got their Number One Christmas Wish early.

After nearly seven months away, Nathan came home from Afghanistan – arriving just in time for the Little Jesus Festival (Berry's preschool Christmas pageant).

Berry played the part of an angel, and she was beyond elated that her Daddy was there to see her.

So whatever Nativity angel was known for waving, leaping up and down, giving thumbs-up, miming hugs and blowing kisses – Berry was that angel.

She was a bit distracting, but I think the Baby Jesus understood.


. . .

Factory second

Berry finished a Toy Story 3 colouring page and I told her, somewhat absently, that she'd done a good job.

"Yeah," she said, "but I kind of phoned it in on that one."


. . .

Interpretation

"Awwww look!" Berry says, "The baby Jesus on his rocking horse!"


. . .

I'm here. And sheepish.

Does it help that I feel guilty for not posting? That I've felt guilty for the entire month of November? That I did manage to post over on the Sweet Olive Press blog and that I was busy busy busy with printing and the odd bit of child-raising? (Odd truly being the operative word...)

No?

How about some Halloween pictures...

Man-show kept shouting, "I'm scary Buzz Lightyear!"

Buzz Lightyear isn't scary, of course, but it really annoyed Berry – and isn't that the #1 motivation for any little brother to persist with something?

Buzz and Ariel worked out how to get lots of prizes at the preschool Fall Festival...

...and neither of them kept their costumes kosher for more than ten minutes.  Buzz wrenched off his hat (hood? hat?) and his hero gloves, and Ariel ditched her tiara, which was all the more annoying because it was special and sold separately.  When I found "I paid good money for that" on the tip of my tongue, I knew it was time to take a deep, deep breath and try not to turn into my parents.


. . .

Pumpkins. Everywhere.

This year we went to two pumpkin patches.

We went with Berry's preschool group to the pumpkin patch at the Episcopal Church of the Redeemer, same as last year.  And this year we also went over to the one at First Presbyterian in New Orleans... it's on Claiborne and not especially fancy, but it has a special place in my heart.

In October 2001, three months after I left Australia, I got a birthday letter from my mum along with a picture that I had drawn for her when I was five.  I was struck with such homesickness that I had a bit of a falling-apart right there in the attic bedroom. Wanting to cheer me up, Nathan took me out to the First Presbyterian pumpkin patch. I'd never been to a pumpkin patch before – so it worked, and I still love it.

The kids did not love what is inside a pumpkin. The picture above shows the first and only time Berry dipped the spoon in.  Man-show's expression could conservatively be called pained.

They were, however, pleased with the end result. The jack-o-lantern above was our first... he looked slightly tired by the day before Halloween, so I carved another (below) to look more sprightly on the day.

The kids loved them both.

Skills

Man-show sniffs the air: "I smell a carnivore."

He would have been so handy in the Mesozoic Era...

. . .