Thankful Me

We almost skipped church this morning. We’ve been away up north for a wonderfully laid back Thanksgiving with Robby’s folks and dear friends… it would have been very easy to just stay on the couch with our coffee (Robby), NY Times Sunday crossword (me), fluffy hedgehog (Philbin), and Thomas trains (Jacky)… but we rallied. Technically, I rallied. I thought it was the first Sunday of Advent. I love Advent. The carols and candles and familiar Bible passages…

Turns out it’s the last Sunday after Pentecost. Dang.

It’s been such a lovely weekend. I had a lot to be Thankful for in the immediate moment: A true Feast on Thursday with deliciously savoury gravy and chestnutted stuffing and my mother-in-law’s amazing Pecan Pie; Good movies and plenty of time to curl up with knitting and British magazines; weather so mild that even in the Great Near North of Michigan we could toss around Jacky’s little Gettysburg College football, neatly sidestepping the piles of deer poo; and a cozy cottage complete with crackling birch logs in the fireplace and the warmth that only really good Chianti and great friends can provide.

Our friend David is making DVDs of the footage he’s shot at various parties and gatherings over the last decade or so… we fast forwarded past sunsets to see the faces of departed friends and family and pets– and were reminded how grateful we all are to have led such lives of rich companionship and the wealth of so many happy hours.

On my stove now is still bubbling a big pot of thickening bean soup. It’s been a group effort. My mother supplied the know-how and the pot (Oh, by the way Mom, if you’re reading this, I “borrowed” your heavy bottomed soup pot.) and Lady passed on a chunky ham bone. Some carrots and onions and beans helped, too.

There’s a lot to be thankful for. Next Sunday being Advent is also on the list.

At Home with the Schleprocks

There’s a good reason for the lack of words this month. November is always a hectic 30 days of travel and conferences… but this year, in addition to the fun and games, we had major home repairs and used car shopping to add to the list.

(November is also a very expensive month.)

It started with my beloved Explorer. She’s been with me for a decade and has seen many, many adventures– film shoots, road trips, Christmas tree hunts– and most importantly, took me fat and nervous to the hospital at one end of a September week and, at the end of that week, home again with a pudgy belly and tiny little Jack strapped in the back.

Of course, she wasn’t always the most reliable of vehicles. There’s a long, long list of grievances between she and Robby. Blown tires, tired transmissions (yes, plural), shot fuel pumps (again with the plurality)… she was getting to be a very high maintenance friend. And she was pushing 300,000 miles. It was time to put her out to pasture. I was guilt stricken the day we started driving around looking for a new set of wheels– poor Blue was no doubt humiliated.

In the end a smaller (used) truck replaced her.

The auto broker called us this week to say that Blue has been sold. He described the new owners as being from Mexico. They paid for her in cash and seemed to have nefarious intentions to take her back across the border where I do not know what her fate will be. The A/C was just replaced. At least they’ll keep cool. Watch for my Blue on the national news?

The home repair was supposed to be the end of a long saga of a leaking roof and interior damage. As it turns out we may be moved out again because the work doesn’t seem to have matched the original intention of repair. Great. For two and a half weeks we were shunting back and forth between sleeping here and living at my mother’s…

Oh. And did I mention Rob hit a deer and wiped out the front end of his truck?

Yeah. November is a very expensive month.

Who’s Crying Now?

One of the subtle changes in Jack– proof that he is, indeed, growing up, is his new pattern of crying. There were the pitiful mews of his first days and the squawky little sounds from his first months. Then came the more pronounced baby condor cries of toward the end of his first year.

When he cries now it is dramatic and tearful and gulping. I thought about it today and realized that the biggest difference is that he can talk now– so that when he cries he sounds more like an adult crying. It’s the strangest thing. And it breaks my heart when I hear it. It’s no longer just a physical reaction– there is the complex confusion of emotions in there, too.

Today we went to StoryTime and then popped into his doctor’s office for his flu shot. He tensed when we walked through the door– his mood suddenly apprehensive. He clung to me while we waited and passed the time by counting. When they called his name we trooped back to the little ante-room that they use for shots– it’s really just a nook in the hall with a shelf of supplies nearby (including free samples that I should have stuffed into my diaper bag but didn’t because I am a good girl) and a little examing table. At the site of the white papered table Jack burst into frightened tears that continued while I unsnapped his overalls and the nurse quickly administered his shot in the thigh. Poor little man wailed and wailed with huge tears slipping down the sides of his face (that clearly bore an expression of, “What in the #*^$????!?”) while I put him back to rights and cuddled him.

I don’t care if it’s good for him. It still makes me feel lousy. They gave Jacky a Sesame Street sticker of Elmo and Zoe… what they should give out are jello shots or Target gift certificates for the Mommies. Or at least free samples.

Wah.