The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing
What the - how is it the end of November already? And why didn’t earlier me get all of that stuff done? Sheesh. I’m so not sending earlier me a holiday card this year. A cookie, now . . .
Lots has gone on this month, but I never got all bloggy about it. I have a new nephew, born on Nov 5th (which, with any luck, shall not be forgot, although I doubt much that Guy Fawkes Day will feature much in the little guy’s celebrations in the future, except he does have an obnoxious and geeky aunt (me), so I’m sure I’ll send him bizarre and obscure references that will confuse him, and maybe I should end this sentence now). Anyhoo, little Tiago Keith (Brazilian name Tiago is pronounced “Chee-ah-go”, but with a sort of T on the CH) was not so little at 10 lbs, 3 oz, and is growing at a very healthy and chubby weight. Such a cutie. The cheeks! Just like his father at his age. Giant. Cheeks. Poor kid - Cheeks is likely to be his nickname for awhile.
Mr. Sweetie and I traveled to LA for turkey day, where much of my family was gathered, partly so I could see the baby. (Oh, let’s be honest: it was entirely so I could see the baby. Whom I got to hold muchly, and there was much cooing and bouncing and general cuddlrey. 3 wk olds mostly sleep and eat and cry and fill diapers, but that doesn’t mean I can’t just coo like a nut. Plus he kept running through expressions when he was sleeping - smiling, frowning, puzzled brow, grins, grimaces, pouty lip - I think he was just testing them out. It was adorable.)
The travel portion of the trip was as easy as a Thanksgiving travel day can be. The TSA agents were shouty, the lines were filled with entire families with children, and the planes were mostly full. You can gamble, if you wish, in the Las Vegas airport as soon as you step off the plane, it turns out. If you don’t wish, you can’t escape the noise of those stupid machines. Stay classy, Vegas. We were there about an hour, then off to Burbank, the tiny, quiet, easy airport. The baggage claim is outside. Oh, California, you’re so . . . California. Sometimes I miss it.
My aunt Holly throws a Thanksgiving feast every year at her house in, um, I forget where exactly, but LA metro. I don’t make it very often, for expensive plane ticket reasons. But this time the Johnson side of the Welch clan (my mother’s fam) was represented in full, (Scott and I, Dusty and Jessica, Quinn, Vania, Lucas and Tiago, Mom and Dad). Holly’s middle child Alex was there, plus Holly and Terry, my aunt Kris and Nicki, and Holly’s friend Leslie. Matthew and Amanda are off having exciting lives in Paris and New York, respectively. We talked to them via Skype and phone. My uncle Tim, in Alabama, and his wife Sundra were phoned, too. My aunt (former aunt? Friend? Favorite relative once-removed?) Carolyn wasn’t there, but I sent her virtual familial hugs through the ether. Did you get them?
I made cinnamon rolls for this trip the weekend before, froze them in big zipper baggies, and brought them on the plane with us. Scott found this strange and amusing, that I would go to so much trouble. But the last time I went down for turkey day and did *not* bring my cinnamon rolls, all family members said they missed them from xmas past, and when could they get them some again. Like crack, my cinnamon rolls are. But despite my giving out this recipe (which was my dad’s mom’s) to others, no one makes these but me. And everyone, EVERYONE loves them to distraction. Because they are heaven with sugar on top, and I try to make them as big as I can, and eating six or seven makes you full yet not realize that you just added 10 lbs to your a**. So. Yummy.
So when I showed up with 18 or so slightly squashy cinnamon rolls, there was much rejoicing. My uncle Terry (who is the loudest, at the very least, about wanting them) was so happy I think he almost fell over trying to get to them. They were half gone before dinner was even served.
Before we sat down to dinner, we sang “We Gather Together” or the Thanksgiving song, as I always knew it, because we are a musical family and no one can stop us. Those who married or joined in more recently were slightly bemused. No one remembered the lyrics well. Quinn was made to play accompaniment on the piano, and I tried to read the words over his shoulders. I need glasses (for more than computer work) it turns out (dammit!), so mostly I sang “something and something we something with something.” Works for me. At least I know the tune.
Dinner was fantastic, Holly did a fabulous job, and we all ate lots. As one does. The baby was held, six-yr-old Lucas was played with and read to, and there was jabbering and laughter on all sides. I have a weird family, in that we kind of like to be together at holidays. I miss the mass hanging out that used to happen when I was younger. I have this fantasy that one of these years, we’ll have a big ol’ holiday celebration at my house, with aunts and uncles and cousins and friends, and there will be much laughter, silliness, music, and random acts of hilarity. (And probably a few near-misses of conflict, but we hate and fear conflict in my family and avoid it, so near-miss it is!) When I picture this, I have a huge kitchen, and there are always tons of relatives, and many kids and pets. (Yes, I imagine a future wherein the baked goods will probably have cat and dog hair as added protein. What? Like that’s not the case now.) I like my family, and I want to spend more time with them, and I like holidays, and music and hilarity and silliness. So combining them all seems like a fine idea to me. Don’t shake your head at me. What’s a broken vase or using up all the hot water between family members? For the short term, anyway. (Note: I do not want to live with all of these people all of the time. That’s madness. And a commune. That someone would have to run, and I don’t have time for that. Plus I’m not really a make exotic goat cheese for money kind of person. Also-plus my dad would be really grumpy about it, and who wants that?)
Aherm. So that was the turkey day holiday saga. Mostly. We spent the night at Quinn and Vania’s, and spent the morning with them and my parents, and played with Lucas and held the baby and ate (yes, more) food, and then off to the airport where we wearily wended our winding way home. Through Sacramento, which was slightly ironic. I waved at Davis as we passed by. We were on the ground in LA for about 26 hours. But our cats were happy we came home, so there’s that.
On the moving-more front, or my promise to myself to stop gaining weight slowly, I have lost 4 lbs. Or 5. Or 2. It kind of depends on the day. But the trend is downward, and the measurements say I have lost a half-inch off my waist and hips. So - yay me. Turns out using the gym at the office 3 days a week really *is* a good idea. Dang. So I’m continuing with that, and my goals are 1) to be up to 20 minutes on the elliptical or faux-liptical (seriously, what is that thing?) by the end of Dec. 2) Get stronger in the arms and abs, because that’s always good. And 3) lose another 2-5 lbs, depending on the day, and maybe another half-inch around, also by the end of Dec. I continue with my happy-making dance schedule, with the jumping and the rolling and the spinning, not to mention the pushups and situps, so I’m sore more days than not anymore. But it’s a good sore. Right? Medic.
On the writing front, well, it’s going. I have the first third of the novel written/sketched in, with missing scenes and random character addition, and I’m pushing my way into the second third. I wanted to be further along by now, but I’m having some trouble with the middle. Everyone’s so surprised, I know. Middles: It’s why writers become haberdashers. But I’m gonna keep on keeping on, and if I have to skip large portions of the middle for now, so be it. My goal is to hit approx 50,000 words by the end of Dec, ending written, many scenes at least sketched in, and a partridge in a pear tree. Or a new war started. Whichever. I feel mostly good about this goal. I’m not as far along this month as I’d like toward that, but I’m not giving up.
So that’s November. December starts tomorrow. It's dark by 430, and the leaves are almost gone. I have my xmas music in queue, I have some presents bought, and some bday presents sent out, and light shopping and massive baking in my future. Here comes the Holly and Jolly. Bring it.
Lots has gone on this month, but I never got all bloggy about it. I have a new nephew, born on Nov 5th (which, with any luck, shall not be forgot, although I doubt much that Guy Fawkes Day will feature much in the little guy’s celebrations in the future, except he does have an obnoxious and geeky aunt (me), so I’m sure I’ll send him bizarre and obscure references that will confuse him, and maybe I should end this sentence now). Anyhoo, little Tiago Keith (Brazilian name Tiago is pronounced “Chee-ah-go”, but with a sort of T on the CH) was not so little at 10 lbs, 3 oz, and is growing at a very healthy and chubby weight. Such a cutie. The cheeks! Just like his father at his age. Giant. Cheeks. Poor kid - Cheeks is likely to be his nickname for awhile.
Mr. Sweetie and I traveled to LA for turkey day, where much of my family was gathered, partly so I could see the baby. (Oh, let’s be honest: it was entirely so I could see the baby. Whom I got to hold muchly, and there was much cooing and bouncing and general cuddlrey. 3 wk olds mostly sleep and eat and cry and fill diapers, but that doesn’t mean I can’t just coo like a nut. Plus he kept running through expressions when he was sleeping - smiling, frowning, puzzled brow, grins, grimaces, pouty lip - I think he was just testing them out. It was adorable.)
The travel portion of the trip was as easy as a Thanksgiving travel day can be. The TSA agents were shouty, the lines were filled with entire families with children, and the planes were mostly full. You can gamble, if you wish, in the Las Vegas airport as soon as you step off the plane, it turns out. If you don’t wish, you can’t escape the noise of those stupid machines. Stay classy, Vegas. We were there about an hour, then off to Burbank, the tiny, quiet, easy airport. The baggage claim is outside. Oh, California, you’re so . . . California. Sometimes I miss it.
My aunt Holly throws a Thanksgiving feast every year at her house in, um, I forget where exactly, but LA metro. I don’t make it very often, for expensive plane ticket reasons. But this time the Johnson side of the Welch clan (my mother’s fam) was represented in full, (Scott and I, Dusty and Jessica, Quinn, Vania, Lucas and Tiago, Mom and Dad). Holly’s middle child Alex was there, plus Holly and Terry, my aunt Kris and Nicki, and Holly’s friend Leslie. Matthew and Amanda are off having exciting lives in Paris and New York, respectively. We talked to them via Skype and phone. My uncle Tim, in Alabama, and his wife Sundra were phoned, too. My aunt (former aunt? Friend? Favorite relative once-removed?) Carolyn wasn’t there, but I sent her virtual familial hugs through the ether. Did you get them?
I made cinnamon rolls for this trip the weekend before, froze them in big zipper baggies, and brought them on the plane with us. Scott found this strange and amusing, that I would go to so much trouble. But the last time I went down for turkey day and did *not* bring my cinnamon rolls, all family members said they missed them from xmas past, and when could they get them some again. Like crack, my cinnamon rolls are. But despite my giving out this recipe (which was my dad’s mom’s) to others, no one makes these but me. And everyone, EVERYONE loves them to distraction. Because they are heaven with sugar on top, and I try to make them as big as I can, and eating six or seven makes you full yet not realize that you just added 10 lbs to your a**. So. Yummy.
So when I showed up with 18 or so slightly squashy cinnamon rolls, there was much rejoicing. My uncle Terry (who is the loudest, at the very least, about wanting them) was so happy I think he almost fell over trying to get to them. They were half gone before dinner was even served.
Before we sat down to dinner, we sang “We Gather Together” or the Thanksgiving song, as I always knew it, because we are a musical family and no one can stop us. Those who married or joined in more recently were slightly bemused. No one remembered the lyrics well. Quinn was made to play accompaniment on the piano, and I tried to read the words over his shoulders. I need glasses (for more than computer work) it turns out (dammit!), so mostly I sang “something and something we something with something.” Works for me. At least I know the tune.
Dinner was fantastic, Holly did a fabulous job, and we all ate lots. As one does. The baby was held, six-yr-old Lucas was played with and read to, and there was jabbering and laughter on all sides. I have a weird family, in that we kind of like to be together at holidays. I miss the mass hanging out that used to happen when I was younger. I have this fantasy that one of these years, we’ll have a big ol’ holiday celebration at my house, with aunts and uncles and cousins and friends, and there will be much laughter, silliness, music, and random acts of hilarity. (And probably a few near-misses of conflict, but we hate and fear conflict in my family and avoid it, so near-miss it is!) When I picture this, I have a huge kitchen, and there are always tons of relatives, and many kids and pets. (Yes, I imagine a future wherein the baked goods will probably have cat and dog hair as added protein. What? Like that’s not the case now.) I like my family, and I want to spend more time with them, and I like holidays, and music and hilarity and silliness. So combining them all seems like a fine idea to me. Don’t shake your head at me. What’s a broken vase or using up all the hot water between family members? For the short term, anyway. (Note: I do not want to live with all of these people all of the time. That’s madness. And a commune. That someone would have to run, and I don’t have time for that. Plus I’m not really a make exotic goat cheese for money kind of person. Also-plus my dad would be really grumpy about it, and who wants that?)
Aherm. So that was the turkey day holiday saga. Mostly. We spent the night at Quinn and Vania’s, and spent the morning with them and my parents, and played with Lucas and held the baby and ate (yes, more) food, and then off to the airport where we wearily wended our winding way home. Through Sacramento, which was slightly ironic. I waved at Davis as we passed by. We were on the ground in LA for about 26 hours. But our cats were happy we came home, so there’s that.
On the moving-more front, or my promise to myself to stop gaining weight slowly, I have lost 4 lbs. Or 5. Or 2. It kind of depends on the day. But the trend is downward, and the measurements say I have lost a half-inch off my waist and hips. So - yay me. Turns out using the gym at the office 3 days a week really *is* a good idea. Dang. So I’m continuing with that, and my goals are 1) to be up to 20 minutes on the elliptical or faux-liptical (seriously, what is that thing?) by the end of Dec. 2) Get stronger in the arms and abs, because that’s always good. And 3) lose another 2-5 lbs, depending on the day, and maybe another half-inch around, also by the end of Dec. I continue with my happy-making dance schedule, with the jumping and the rolling and the spinning, not to mention the pushups and situps, so I’m sore more days than not anymore. But it’s a good sore. Right? Medic.
On the writing front, well, it’s going. I have the first third of the novel written/sketched in, with missing scenes and random character addition, and I’m pushing my way into the second third. I wanted to be further along by now, but I’m having some trouble with the middle. Everyone’s so surprised, I know. Middles: It’s why writers become haberdashers. But I’m gonna keep on keeping on, and if I have to skip large portions of the middle for now, so be it. My goal is to hit approx 50,000 words by the end of Dec, ending written, many scenes at least sketched in, and a partridge in a pear tree. Or a new war started. Whichever. I feel mostly good about this goal. I’m not as far along this month as I’d like toward that, but I’m not giving up.
So that’s November. December starts tomorrow. It's dark by 430, and the leaves are almost gone. I have my xmas music in queue, I have some presents bought, and some bday presents sent out, and light shopping and massive baking in my future. Here comes the Holly and Jolly. Bring it.