fruitful fields and healthful skies

Thanksgiving started out rather predictable, the Yale Crew gathering for flag football on the front lawn of the church. It's the site where a few years ago J.J. and dad had a meeting of the minds, if you will. Dinner started two hours late that year after both had their heads stitched up. True turkey battle wounds. Dad's scar was still visible last night from across the table. We tried our hands and feet at rugby first, scrumming, running, falling, kicking, etc. but switched to football after K's chin nearly collided with the pavement. The girls were the victors this year. (We had numbers up, and a dad who decided to play for our team, but we'll take the credit.)

Dinner was followed by Charades while our tummies turned turkey and mashed potatoes to make room for dessert. It's hard to give out awards for the best inaudible performances. Steve's "How the Grinch Stole Christmas," was rather memorable, the pinnacle being his facial expressions opening gifts under the Christmas tree. Then there was Mom's "The-Great-Gatsby-Sounds-Like-Cats-by" which had her down on the floor in a noiseless purr. I thought my one-woman-silent-show of "Romeo and Juliet" was rather moving, especially the poisoning scene, although it didn't buy us any extra time or points.

As long as we're giving out awards, I think Susan gets one for her caramel pecan pie, a bite of which I ate for breakfast this morning, amongst intermittent visits to the counter to snack on Grandma's pumpkin pie, a chart-topper year after year.

Football, potatoes, turkey and pie; family, friends and movies in the basement with full bellies -- there's much to be grateful for, and it's not just the feasting. This time of year I miss Grandpa the most -- when our thoughts turn to fortitude, and freedom, and thankfulness. His spot is much missed at the table. We spoke of Washington's and Lincoln's Thanksgiving Proclamations at dinner. And Dan Man recited "In Flander's Field" from memory, standing aside his Thanksgiving plate. I've included Lincoln's Proclamation below. (It's lengthy, but beautiful):

"The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God. In the midst of a civil war of unequaled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere except in the theatre of military conflict; while that theatre has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union. Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defence, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle or the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege and the battle-field; and the country, rejoicing in the consciousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom. No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquillity and Union." President Abraham Lincoln 1863

happy thanksgiving weekend

{ryan fenwick via design crush}

wishing for winter

Beth, Kate and I took the shortcut to the library today, choosing to step out into the cold instead of walking down the long hallway with the portraits of the prophets. We bustled along, Mount Olympus to our coatless backs. "I want it to snow for my birthday. That's all I want*," I said as we slipped in the side door. Beth wanted snow for my birthday, too. As long as it's gone by Wednesday so she can fly home, she said pile it on. (Actually, she didn't say pile it on, but it's my birthday and my wish, and I say pile it on.)

Three hours later, as I helped set the table for Sunday dinner, the snow began to fall in big fluffy flakes, like bits of clouds floating down to coat the ground in a soft white blanket.

Snow came a day early, but waking up to a Winter Wonderland this morning was pretty fantastic.

* Fine. That's not all I wanted. I also wanted my brother Rich to do his funny voices. He's home from college for a week and I have missed his many silly voices - especially the voice when he takes it upon himself to talk for our dog. I knew he'd be shy about it since we have company, but, as we sorted spoons before dinner, I begged and out came a granule of gruff just for me. Thanks, Chard. Double wish. Check. Check.

oh, happy day!

Today Miss D and I spent the afternoon rushing around town. We spent the evening chatting at the big table before friends arrived. We sipped fizzy water, made wishes, ate cake and peppermint ice cream and laughed about all sorts of things.*

Happy, happy birthday, Miss D!

I wish you a most delightful year full of all your favorite things
{and the same thing you wished me tonight at the dinner table.}

hip, hip for november babes!

*Hot south Texas rain and jumpers being favorite topics of the day.

just add the filling

Many times in my life I've thought I wouldn't mind it if my life turned out like Anne Shirley's. The following story, however, was not exactly what I had in mind.

I was already running late. This, I knew. I was also running short. On cream cheese. One pumpkin cheesecake down and one to go, I mixed the filling and dashed to the store, well aware that I was going to run smack dab into the five o'clock honey-what's-for-dinner? rush at the neighborhood market. I grabbed three packages of cream cheese and stepped in line just in front of my across-the-street-neighbor. (If only I had known she was headed to the market. I could have avoided this whole kerfuffle.) We waited in line while the credit card of the woman in front of us was declined, updating each other on the latest goings on in our Avonlea. Minutes tick-tocking away, I sped home, whipped up the cream cheese and went to add the layer of pumpkin to the second pumpkin cheesecake.

What happened next was very Anne-forgot-to-put-the-cheese-cloth-over-the-plum-pudding-sauce-so-a-mouse-climbed-in-to-take-a-final-bath (min. 5:45). While I was on my grocery getaway, a fly thought that he needed to test my pumpkin filling. I found him belly up, legs twitching in the pumpkin sauce. "I suppose in the end, it was a romantic way to perish...for a (fly)."

The "Oh no's" of moments before turned to "Oh well's" as I looked at the clock and realized I barely had time enough to bake the thing, let alone whip up another batch of pumpkin filling. So, I fished out that fly, said silent prayers of forgiveness (one for killing the fly, another because I didn't plan to tell a soul about it) and popped the pan in the oven. Thirty-five minutes later, I arrived to the activity with two cheesecakes, well aware of which one had been de-flied on the fly.

I imagine there's still time for bike races to the bridge, diamond sunbursts and marble halls. For notes signed, "your chum" and teary scenes at train stations. There is the part where Anne writes, "Averil's Atonement." Dear Diana edits the details about baking a cake. Maybe a Rolling's Reliable Baking Powder Company contest is on the horizon.

*To any and all girls who consumed said cheesecake, it was baked at 375 degrees. I think we're safe. (Right?)

pencils, pears, and forever friends

Miss D is a friend of the most splendid variety. We've only known each other for a year, but it feels like decades. The instant I saw her I knew we needed to be friends. We are only two days apart, but I think had she known I was coming into the world, she would have waited. Nonetheless, we are both November Babes and that is well enough.

She teaches English at the University, is a marvelous writer, can finish my sentences, and finds a way to throw the word "delightful" into everyday conversation. We see eye-to-eye on many things. We both love the sea and warm summer nights outside. The other night when the clouds looked like cotton candy, I sent Miss D a text message because I knew she would appreciate it.

This summer, Miss D planted a garden which grew in abundance. Fresh basil, peppers, cucumbers (which she lugged in her temple bag) and heirloom tomatoes. We both love tomatoes (perhaps she more than I because she wrote a paper about them) and alliteration (perhaps I more than she, but once on the phone, Miss D was picking pears from her pear tree. I heard an "Ahh!" from the other end. Then she said, "I'm being pummeled by pears!" Oh, the oodles of delight it added to my day!)

Hooray for friends, old and new, and for Babes born in November.