Thanks given

Went to my in-laws' house for Thanksgiving dinner.

During the blessing, Mikey thanked God that the Democrats won the House and the Senate, which caused a ripple around the table.

The nieces and nephews ate in the kitchen, except for little Karlee who sat on my mother-in-law's lap two seats to my right in the dining room. Karlee is allergic to beef, pork, wheat, eggs, dairy products, and a half dozen other foods. There isn't much she can eat, so her mother fed her spaghetti before they arrived (aren't there wheat and eggs in pasta?) and Karlee vomited it all over my mother-in-law, the table and the empty chair between us. Yay.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the kids set off the Low-Rider Santa 126 times during dinner. After dinner, I waited until no one was looking and I hid it.

That night, Mikey started pulling all the Christmas stuff out of the attic and got lights strung across the front of the house. While we were standing out in the street admiring his handiwork, Mikey told me he's gonna be Clark Griswold this year, and then he went shopping. So now, among other things, we have lighted candy canes lining the flower beds on both sides of the front door, along with an air-blown Santa and a snowman, both eight feet tall, where the weeping mulberries used to be. Britt insists on calling the snowman the Iceman.

Did you catch that? The weeping mulberries are finally gone! Woo-hoo! Clark finally chainsawed them down yesterday.

Anyway, he's not done yet. The rest of the trees still need to be strung with lights and Clark will probably go shopping again, but we're already the most festive house on the block. I tried to take some pictures last night but they were too dark, so y'all will just have to come over and see. Britt is thrilled.

And now the question that plagued me last year has arisen yet again: To tree or not to tree? We, or really I, finally decided to skip it last year, but Clark says of course we're putting up a tree this year. Two, in fact! Our regular one and the antique aluminum tree that Grandma Sarah gave us. Oh, yay!

I've had a bad case of the blues lately, but Clark's infectious enthusiasm is actually making me feel slightly less Scroogish than usual. So now I must go select some html color codes so I can dress my blog in Christmas colors.

Checking in

Sorry for the dearth of posts lately, but I just haven't been in a computer mood. Instead of spending all my free time reading stuff online, I've been reading... books! Actual real live books!

Imagine that.

Bob and his girlfriend came down to see Britt and spent Sunday and Monday nights with us.

Britt can count to ten already!

Bridgie just got a big raise at work.

I'm supposed to be boiling eggs right now, but I don't feel like it. I shouldn't complain, though, because Mike's mom and sister are being all Martha Stewart about Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow and all I have to do is deviled eggs and a cheese and cracker tray.

I haven't had Thanksgiving dinner with my own family since 1994.

I hear Britt terrorizing the cat again, so I'd better scram.

Suddenly, a menagerie

Mikey volunteered us to dog-sit Toby, Grandma Sarah's dog, while she's in Chicago for her annual two-month visit with Uncle Max and family. He is cute, and he's a sweet-natured little dog:



Unfortunately, he's a flatulent dog. Also a pisser, an upchucker, and a barker. The horrid stank of his farts burned all the hairs out of my nose, and he was peeing on the outside of the kitty litter box, leaving nasty yellow puddles on the bathroom floor. He vomited on my carpets at least once a day. And when I'd exile him to the backyard for his sins, he'd stand at the door and bark non-stop for hours and hours and hours.

I stood it for eight days. The final straw came last Saturday night when we were kicked back for the evening and Toby yakked up a big stinking steaming pile right in front of the TV. I looked over at Mikey and said, "Toby's got to go." Mikey took him over to his parents' house the next day. So that ordeal is over.

Okay, wait -- back up. What was that about a kitty litter box? Since when do we have a cat?

Well, it happened like this: A week ago Saturday, the doorbell rang. It was Cathy. With a cat. The cat Phil brought her. The cat she was supposed to bring over a month or so ago to see if we wanted it, but I hadn't heard a peep from her since then so I thought maybe she decided to keep it.

She brought the cat, cat food, a litter box, a box of kitty litter, and many boxes of kitty box liners. I said, "So is this is a trial run or a forever deal?" She kind of slumped and said, "I guess it's a trial run."

He's a pretty kitty, snow white with pale ginger ears and tail and ice blue eyes. He's tiny, too. I forgot to ask how old he is.





So now we have a cat. We named him Ginger Baker, and Britt loves him. To death, if I don't keep a sharp eye on her.

Little Angel

Sis went trick-or-treating for the first time last night and she loved her costume -- except for the halo, which she refused to wear:



I took loads of pictures, but she was in a contrary mood so I didn't get many good ones. She even hid behind a chair, yelling, "No! No pictures!":



I had no idea she was so popular here in the cul-de-sac; several of our neighbors had little Care Bears and dolls on hand to give her. After making the rounds, she shared the wealth with her Poppa,



and with me:



I got lots of video of her actual trick-or-treating experiences, but I can't post any of it here since my computer no longer recognizes my camera.