Archive for the ‘Thanksgiving’ Category

Dear Snow


To GH, before my eyes were open.

Did it snow last night?

hmmmm . . . that’s good.

Transitions are hard.  Ask President-elect Obama.  Here at ThreadingWater HQ, there are several transitions in the works:  seasonal, political, artistic and Thanksgiving, worthy of its own category.

Blogging Lite will continue as my time in the kitchen stretches far beyond normal boundaries.  By the time we pack the car Wednesday, there will be seven pies, 25 lbs. of twice-baked potatoes, a complete post-Thanksgiving meal for fifteen people, assorted side dishes, breakfast fixings and a heaping of anticipation for five whole days of extravagant time with loved ones, replete with in-depth analysis of all things political.  (We can’t help it.  Religion and politics MUST be discussed at our table.)

Oh, and some knitting.

sleep now, all you pollens and molds.

sleep now, all you pollens and molds.


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All Clear

OK. OK. So, that last post was a little over the top. I’m better now – it’s amazing how a dose of Project Runway can revive the spirits in a slump. You know, it’s fine to give me a verbal rapping when I’ve so obviously gone off the deep end. Thanks, Leslie. The rest of you lurkers can stop plotting your “intervention.”

This week has been all about planning for Thanksgiving. We will be gathering in the Ozarks – 18 of us – and the remoteness of our meeting point requires what can only be described as “extreme” planning. Across several states, and spanning generations, one can almost hear the paper-rustling sounds of lists being made and the repetitious bleeps of grocery store scanners drifting into the ether as we venture out to gather our mealtime supplies.

Greatest Husband describes my contribution as “The Parade of Pies,” a category I hope is expansive enough to include at least one cake among the apple and cherry pies (two of each). Then, there’s the matter of 15 lbs. of organic russet potatoes waiting to be turned into twice-baked delicacies, an order of cranberry-apricot confit, cranberry-orange relish and the yet-to-be-determined vegetable offering. And that’s only for Thanksgiving. The crowd will be assembled for another two nights.

Grand. Simply grand.


One more note for today : Happy fourth wedding anniversary to my son and daughter-in-law. Congratulations, kids. We can’t wait to eat pie with you next week.

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November sucks.  Let me count (just a few of) the ways:

  • short days
  • dead plants
  • too early for snow
  • too late for migrating birds

In general, tis the season of angst and ennui even on the brightest days of the month.  And there haven’t been too many of those this year, what with sadness, loss and family crisis thrown into the mix – but you won’t be subjected to those details because this isn’t that type of blog. Instead, I give you the happy jewel-sparkling moments.  First, a visit to Dallas to assist dearest daughter-in-law in feting mr-smarty-pants son with a weekend of surprises on the thirtieth anniversary of his birth.  Mission accomplished (with surprising ease).

First stop – the Dallas Museum of Art and this amazing wall display by Dale Chihully.

Then, it was off to Fort Worth to hit the National Cowgirl Museum and Hall of Fame.

Watch my bucking bronco ride!  (OK, so it looks a little Martha Graham-ish.  Apparently, you can’t take the dance training out of the cowgirl, even when she’s in the saddle.)

November plods forward until . . . Thanksgiving.  To wit, I give you

the bird (with barbeque artist, GH)

the pie (mmmm . . . apple)

the friends

the imp

and the baby,

 ’cause what would a holiday be without children and babies?

Hmmmm . . . almost enough to make me reconsider November.

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