Hello Kitty!

Actual holiday gift-making is underway! Rather than wringing my hands about not having time to get through my entire list of gifts I'd like to make, I'm just jumping in, doing what I can, and enjoying the results.

Scenes from the day

I realized that this was our very first Thanksgiving with just us three, and it was wonderful.

(I have been cooking our turkey on the grill for over 22 years and it comes out perfect every time -- juicy, flavorful, golden. AND you get the use of your oven for everything else! If you want instructions just let me know -- it can be done on a charcoal covered grill [with a dome top -- a Weber] or on a gas grill -- again, as long as the lid is big enough to close down over the bird.)

Dean declared it to be a pajama day, and so for him it was.

I close with two tips for you. First, it is wonderful to have a notebook in which to record all your holiday/special meals -- jot down who was there, what you served, what you did. I started mine the year we were married, 1989 (that's Thanksgiving 1989 on this page), and have notes from pretty much every year:

(sorry -- I make all low-res images to ease loading, but it makes this hard to read..)

And next, I have a binder with copies of all the holiday meal recipes I use, along with my notes on them. This makes it easy to pull out the recipes you need for the particular event, and to have all your favorites in one place. I include recipes for using up leftovers, too.

I feel so joyful about the season on which we have embarked!

Underway

I don't usually take too many pictures in the kitchen; the lighting isn't conducive and I'm generally so wrapped up in the doings that I don't think to record them.

But Dean, at the stove, making his world famous cranberries -- that was worth recording. And I kept going for a little while
at various points in the happy chaos
with too much going on at once but everything going well. I've cooked the Thanksgiving Feast every year that we've been married (21) and quite a few before that as well. Ken and Dean like the menu just as it is, although I made chocolate chip gingerbread bars for dessert because Dean isn't an apple pie guy and three people did NOT justify two desserts (I do have some restraint).

Dean's cranberries are ready for tomorrow, and so am I.

Love and joy come to you!

And now, we return to sanity

I'll admit it.

For the first time ever ever, I was seriously contemplating getting out super early on Friday to do some shopping. Joann Fabrics tempted me with a flier filled with those "door buster" specials designed to get you into a shopping frenzy.

It helped me to read an article about how retailers trick you with this stuff; when the fine print in the ad says "limited quantities" they often are REALLY limited, so that you are almost assured of finding that the crazy unbelievable deals will be sold out (unless you're willing to camp out overnight, which I most certainly am not). That they dazzle you with deals on stuff you don't really need, and get you into the buying state of mind so that you really rack up the bill at check-out time so that you feel it was worth your while to get out so early.

Instead I will be where I belong. Home, maybe in bed, maybe up with my first cuppa, and maybe even setting out to make some things with the unbelievable amount of crafting supplies I already own. We've designated Friday as "At Home" day (another reason not to sneak out!), and we're going to relax and enjoy and not feel guilty about all the stuff we're not getting done. We'll live off the fat of the leftovers and maybe even get a fire going in the fireplace.

Sounds better than having to vie for a parking space at 5:30 a.m.

What makes it "Thanksgiving"?

I've been mostly having the conversation inside my own head, because really it's so much quicker and easier.

What is it that constitutes the Thanksgiving Experience, especially given that Thanksgiving this year will be the 3 of us at home?

I decided that polishing silver and ironing table linens still mattered (much to the amusement of Ken). Butter pats are molded, in the freezer, in the traditional acorn and leaf molds (because, really, what's not to love about a pat of butter in the shape of an acorn?). An olive tray didn't make the cut, because it was mostly the company that went for the olives, and Dean helped me decide that placecards really weren't completely sane.

Spanikopita didn't make the cut mostly just because of how labor intensive they are, although I think I will get them on the appetizer tray for Christmas.

Otherwise, although I'll attempt to cut down some of the portions, the menu is pretty much what it always is. I can't give the boot to cranberries, or stuffing, or turkey and gravy (of course!), and then once you're there you've got to have the mashed potatoes and the sweet potatoes with the specially made pecans on top are my particular favorites.

We're still going to spend Wednesday cleaning the house, although I imagine I'll have to work past a certain number of, "but it's not like anyone else is coming!" comments; well, Ken will mostly handle the cleaning while I mostly handle the cooking.

I think it's important for your own little family to know that they are the reason to celebrate, and that the effort gets made whether others are coming or not.

Around the World

We've returned from a brief trip, one that we planned when we felt that we all needed something to look forward to, one that we planned at a time when taking Dean out of school for a few days didn't seem too daunting.


We really wanted to get some Christmas on, to jump-start the holiday season with a bang.
We also really wanted to see some new scenery, experience some warmer temperatures.


We wanted to enjoy some great art and architecture, and alsoSee some wildlife up close.


We also wanted to eat a wide variety of foods, and Dean in particular wanted to expand his fish and vegetable intake.

We were up for a little shopping, browsing, seeing what was what in the shops.


We wanted to immerse ourselves in local cultures, even when we were a little weary from all the walking.

Are you on to me? We escaped to Disney World. It was our best trip ever -- largely, I think, because I've learned to relax and when I'm relaxed, the ripple effects are tremendous.

Now we're getting our Thanksgiving on, which will be a holiday at home for the three of us. We're fairly giddy about it. I'm loving all the joyful sights of the holidays all around blogland; for now, everyone seems to be reveling in preparations and anticipation, even if we didn't *ahem* quite get the year-long jump we'd dreamed of.

The most valuable commodity

And so another magnificent Halloween blows in with the falling leaves and scatters just as quickly. Dean's costume this year was pretty straightforward in terms of the sewing/construction, but he loved it and was a big hit while trick-or-treating.

(Typecast in the class Halloween skit....)

We took the big leap this year, and let Dean go off with his two best friends. They traversed a street that goes all-out; the street is closed to traffic for three hours, the homes are all decked out and people go to such lengths as to put up cotton candy and popcorn machines in their yards. The street isn't particularly chock-full of homes, but it's the quality over quantity issue at work.

(Heading out to hit up the neighbors before the official outing)

The whole trick-or-treating scene is kind of complicated out here. In many areas, including the street where we live, the houses are very spread out and there are rarely sidewalks. So aside from the usual risks people associate with the endeavor, there's a higher risk of being hit by a car or tripping somewhere along the unlit roads (that's the other wrinkle).

Kids and parents compensate by often choosing other neighborhoods to visit -- ones where there are sidewalks, and homes in reasonable proximity, and street lights. And it goes over pretty well in those neighborhoods. Rare is the house that's shut up and dark -- the norm is a decorating extravaganza to rival the winter holidays. In fact, I felt bad last night for the homes I passed while driving that were trying so hard to attract trick-or-treaters but were unlikely to receive any because of their location. I wish we lived in one of those prime trick-or-treat neighborhoods because I'd love to spend the evening watching the parade come right up to our door.

Anyway.

After he and his friends had been out for only an hour, I got the call from him that they were done. But what they wanted was to spend the rest of the evening hanging out together, and they were all invited to one of the family's homes. I was kind of surprised at first; we'd spend hours, and hours, and hours as kids, going as far and wide as we could to collect the most pounds of candy possible. Give up after an hour? No way!

But as I thought about it, I realized that for Dean and his friends candy really isn't a very precious commodity. They are all being raised in homes where it's not a big deal to have some candy -- not that any of them are rolling in it, but it's more or less available when they'd like it. They don't have to hoard it. But what they don't have nearly enough of is time with each other -- and that's what they yearn for. We don't live on the same street as his best friends; we all don't even live in the same town. The boys don't come home after a day of school and then spend the afternoon to early evening in each other's company every day, and they don't spend all day of every weekend together.

The proposition is completely flipped. The one thing we DID have growing up was constant access to and time with friends. But now that's the most valuable commodity.

I love that they just inherently got it right. They loved dressing up, they loved the street scene and the trick-or-treating. But they knew what they valued most, and so that's how they chose to use most of their time.

Dean's already thinking about what he wants to be next year. And I'm working to figure out when he can invite his friends over to play.

Carving night!

Tonight we carve the pumpkins we plucked from the patch a couple weeks ago. Dean's still got his cast on in this picture, but in real life he's now down to an ankle brace and life is good.

Finding myself reluctantly having to put my money where my mouth is -- Dean and a couple of his friends will go out trick-or-treating on their own. Oh, they'll all be carrying cell phones (I'm lending Dean mine and he's thankful it isn't pink), and going in a neighborhood that will be jam-packed with kids. I'm all for it on so many levels, but I'll still be glad to see him home safe and sound.

Hurdy gurdy

I really should know what kind of plant this is; these were planted in our garden just last year. Whatever it is, it saves its flower show for fall, even though to me it has the look of a spring flower. I treasure it for its willingness to be brave and bold, yet tender, in the face of cold.

Today is the first time this season that I've had to put a touch of heat on in the house during the day. Oh, the heat has been coming on from time to time at night, but during the daylight hours it's been warm enough until now.

I find myself with that leaning-over-the-precipice feeling -- that one more step and then the SWOOOP toward Thanksgiving and Christmas and all will begin. The downhill, can't stop running madly out of control dash that is the marathon ahead. I don't necessarily mean it in a bad way; there are certainly things about the holidays that I treasure and revel in. More in just that sense of time going faster and faster and faster each year; the sense that *catching up* just isn't in the cards. That's ok. I feel we're better prepared than in the past to put our own measures of sanity around it all.

Meanwhile, I finally tidied up, got the Halloween decorations up, and made it feel appropriately festive around here. Pumpkins await carving, a costume is ready for Dean, candy is purchased and ready to be handed out.


My childhood memories of Halloween are glorious. This is my brother Chris, on the left -- so typical for our family that he was the only one of his friends with a homemade costume. My mom did excel in the making of Halloween costumes, and we were broad-minded in our ideas of what to be. You may not recognize the form, but Chris (or Clipper, as he was known back then) is an organ grinder -- and his rendition is perfect. Do you see the monkey in his arm, and the wind-up organ he wears around his neck? When we were young, we could go to the Old Town neighborhood of Chicago and almost always see an organ grinder -- always a man, always with a swarthy, gypsy look to him (in the very best sense) with a handlebar moustache and a monkey. You could give your pennies to the monkey and he'd give them a bite to make sure they were real (and not food) and then hop up to deliver them to the organ grinder.


Although I will admit that we got in the habit of calling them monkey grinders as kids -- not for any morbid reason but just that once one of us got the name wrong and the new name stuck (took me years to figure out why my parents thought it was so funny and awful that we called them that).

Anyway, I don't ever remember a parent along for trick-or-treating with any kids. We were instead set loose upon the neighborhoods, and would travel in packs for hours and hours collecting candy. I was the ward of my older siblings my first year or two out, but then from then on went with my own group of friends to enjoy a child's nearly favorite night of the year (with only Christmas competing for the honors).

To port

It has been lovely, these days, in New England. Despite the early darkness, the days are crisp and bright and filled with the colors and scents of autumn.


Hard to stay grumpy, which is a wonderful thing.


We spent Saturday afternoon in Newburyport, Massachusetts. Dean is learning that the many little port towns along the New England coast are very similar in design, in feel (and unfortunately in this age of franchises and homogenization, often identical in the shops) --
Portland, Portsmouth, Newburyport, Rockport, Newport -- you could be dropped blindfolded into any one of these and know that you were in New England near the coast but would not necessarily instantly know which town you were in. Cobblestone streets, old brick storefronts, winding streets coming up off the waterfront -- check, check, check.

They are lovely, though -- please don't think I don't adore these towns because I do. (I've managed to sneak in some sewing lately, and made this new jacket for myself although I'm still tinkering with it a little bit....)

I'm not sure why this picture of Dean with the horse strikes me as so adorably funny -- something about his bum leg, I guess, and the apparent youth of the horse.

Seeing the ocean, the boats, and dear family members who met up with us for *linner* (you know, a meal in between lunch and dinner) was restorative.

Recent discoveries

I've been shamefully lazy lately about my blog. That's not so much in the *recent discoveries* category, but then maybe again it is. I think a lot about writing, and posting, but then end up noodling away the time I have and not doing it.

So instead I'm trying to just actually post.

Here goes.

In the actual recent discoveries category:

As Dean progresses in his piano playing and works on pieces by your basic hall-of-fame composers, it finally occurred to me to seek out recordings -- piano only -- of those pieces so he can hear the timing, and can hear how professionals play a piece (and reflect on the kinds of emotions that are evoked when a piece is played with feeling). I've made a CD of the stuff he's currently working on and we're listening to it in the car. Why did I not do this sooner?


Also in the music department: when I was growing up, we always had a radio/tape player in the kitchen, and we had music on in the kitchen basically all the time. My mom enjoyed a very wide range of music, so I was exposed to all kinds of stuff and really enjoyed that soundtrack to our lives. As an adult, through nothing other than neglect, I've never had music in the kitchen. At our house now it is possible to put music on in the family room and hear it in the kitchen (although we really don't get much radio reception at all), but it's hard to manage and so I rarely do it. I've told Ken that what I'd truly like for Christmas is an inexpensive unit on which I could dock my iPod and hear music in the kitchen. Wish I'd done this waaaaay sooner.


I seem to have developed a touch of SAD as I've aged. I've always been sensitive to the light change with the seasons, and have railed against the whole daylight savings/time change scheme in the past here (ad nauseam?). But last night as I looked out of the dining room windows during dinner and saw deep darkness, I realized how utterly depressed it made me feel. I have never been a night person, and I'm not looking forward to winter's darkness.

Taking the time to take photographs makes me very happy. As long as I have a camera on me, there are pictures to take. I need to devote more time to this.

The cumulative dark events of this year in my life have worn me down. It has been a year of tragic losses, of set backs, of injuries and ill-health. I'm not sure if it's because winter is coming, or because I'm concerned that the new year won't be better, or because I'm tired, or because I'm having new realizations about what it is to live without my parents, but I'm finding myself more worn down by it all than I usually am. I know I'll shake this, but it's a heavy load just now.


Morning glories continue to thrive, even once the nights get cold and the days get short.

Falling

I don't get much time in here these days; I suppose the way to say it is that I don't manage to make the time to get here. I know well enough by now that blogging goes in cycles but I'm curious to see this time if I manage to ramp back up, or not.

But meanwhile.

The things left blooming in the garden are valiant, gorgeous, lonely, and ephemeral. I'd like to spend these days out there with my camera, but settle for a few moments stolen now and then (although I need to remember, again, to always have a camera with me). It hasn't managed for the past week or so to ever get as warm as the forecast predicts, so we're left under-dressed and shivery -- very fall-en indeed.

Tomorrow we make the trip into Boston to take Dean to Children's Hospital; another boy at school accidentally slid into Dean's ankle during a recess soccer game last week and Dean's been in a cast and on crutches since. I've seen more of the local emergency room this year than I'd like, certainly. Anyway, they weren't sure in the ER if he'd broken the growth plate in his foot and so tomorrow we see a specialist and find out for sure. All hopes are pinned on *not broken.*

I do find it odd that the parent of the child involved never called to see how Dean was doing. If my child had accidentally sent another child to the ER I'd certainly have made the call -- all the more so if I saw the child on crutches the next day. What do you think is wrong with people? We know it was an accident, but wouldn't the decent thing to do be to call? Or is it just me? I often enough find that I seem to live by some ancient code that no one else follows....

Oh, and I need to do something with all the basil before we get a hard frost and it's gone.