By tradition, we often do an “encore turkey,” to ensure that we have leftovers all the way through July. A Hobbit’s second breakfast.
Good to have Smartacus home, though there were instantly piles of socks and shoes in every corner of the house, and I still can’t find my charging cords.
Remember back when I accidentally drank decaf coffee for a few days and thought I was dying? That gave me perspective like nothing else.
In these days before Thanksgiving, we sit by the fire and listen for “returning feet and voices at the door,” as per Tolkien.
I can smell God's socks, no kidding. But the best part is the overview of this enormous stadium. The whole place feels like a Peanuts special.
We’d come through Lake Tahoe, up the chalky chowder of highway 89, praying the semis would hold the icy highway.
Honestly, I don’t want to live in a world without print newspapers, journalism’s only link to Shakespeare.
Dogpark Gary-- always a sage, often an inspiration – explains that we have entered the Age of Frustration.
Since Smartacus left, I’ve been living mostly on microwave popcorn and cheese curds. I call it “the Packers Diet.”
Found a wad of Smartacus’ dirty socks under the couch. Not many, 60-70 at most. That turned me into a wistful mom all over again.