Thanksgiving in my family is a big, boisterous, event, filled with reunions, wisecracks and food. So. Much. Food. It’s a time when I can feel how loved I am and, more so now than ever, how lucky I am. As I grow older, or, as I’d like to think, more mature, I am increasingly more cognizant of the need to reflect on what I am truly thankful for. We’ve never been the type of family that goes around the table saying what we’re thankful for, but I feel the pull of announcing it. A verbal, or in this case, written declaration of the appreciation for what we have and who we love it a very reassuring practice. And so, it is in that spirit I offer my thanks now.
Wishing you and yours a happy, healthy and safe holiday season from our family to yours. May you feel love, share love and be love.
I am a fabric addict. Prints and textures call out to me begging me to create something fabulous with them. I tend to lean toward practical, but I do love a good dose of whimsy. I long to sit in my house and just make wonderful silly things I find on Pinterest. I blame my mother. She will tell you this is no surprise…the blaming part, not the addiction part.
Last week I had the most ridiculous 1950s fantasy holiday moment ever. I am not even joking. Santa himself could have shown up and I would have told him that I’m all set this year. I decided to be insane and make my mom’s gingerbread houses this year, all five of them of course, with some cookies because, well, COOKIES.
Miss O and her dad were decorating the tree and listening to Christmas music. Miss O is now obsessed with Frosty the Snowman and must hear at least two versions every day. Her little voice was belting it out while she hung every ornament on the tree on the same branch. Hubs dutifully answered each time she held one up and asked “Who is that?” I let her help me cut out some cookies and she had the biggest smile. So did I. I know it was darling because I felt it. Mission accomplished! Almost.