Happy Thanksgiving!

I love nothing more than a corny poem and a day of gluttonous consumption. In honor of both, here you go...

Gobstoppers and Gobbles

Before it is time to take out the turkey
(And put up the Christmas stuff even though it's too early...)
I like to remember just how good I've got it
My Quit Your Whining Jar needs a yearly deposit
So in no particular order, and with somewhat shaky rhyme
I'll remind myself in poetry why my life such a good time
This year we finished the basement
And have a lot more space
I even helped carry drywall
Without wrecking my husband's face
I can also be thankful for the lady
Who took me into her employ
She happened to be such a monster
Getting my old job back was a joy
I'm grateful for the grace and restraint
The dog is getting with age
She no longer thinks of the house as a hotel room
And herself as Jimmy Page
Can't forget Special Council Fitzgerald
As I stir the pots on the stove
All I want for Christmas is a feast of skewered Rove
Of course there are the little things
I have, like heat and light
I have a home and I have a car
And I have pants that aren't too tight
I have a son who is truly a hoot
He cracks me up by the hour
With a husband who can do the same
It's like a comedy shower
This holiday as I sit down to oink
I'll think of family, friends, and candy
How could I complain?
How could I fuss?
When really, things are quite dandy.

Without pictures, this "picture" is incomplete. Photos on the way...

My son knows what he wants.

It's not startling news, of course. There was that wedding we went to when he was three, when he got tired of waiting for the cake to be served so he walked right up and cut himself a fistful. Or, the time he snuck into the kitchen in the middle of the night and stowed a half dozen chocolate covered cherries in his coat, circumventing any nasty parental candy limits. And, who could forget the days when he insisted that we call him Rocky?

Rocky strikes again. This time, he knew he wanted to be a donkey and, dammit, a donkey he was.

It all started a few weeks back, when news of the midwest premiere of "E-I-E-I-Oops!" spread through the house. The first grade musical was coming! We had a walk-on role! Guffman was even rumored to be coming! "I'm the donkey," Jack said. "I need ears and a tail and I need to learn how to hee haw."

Naturally, I was thrilled. I don't get many opportunities to knit and gloat at the same time. I got down to work with some gray wool, and eventually we had ears, a fancy mane, and a tail. Add a little black nose paint and Voila!--what a cute Ass.

We took our seats and waited with crazed anticipation. No matter that Jack was curiously listed in the program as a chorus farmer, we just knew it was written to conceal the surprise donkey attack. Hee Haw!

What a night. Cue the music. Enter the chicken chorus. Enter the farmers (wow, so many!). Enter 20 pigs and 14 sheep. Enter one donkey.

Yes, my son knows what he wants. Wednesday night, he wanted a part in the musical. So, he decided to self cast. I love you, Jack Attack, and may you always be this resourceful.

All the cool kids are doing this, right?

...then I'm not sure we'll fit in. But, we'll give it a shot. Let me introduce the boss:

This is Lucy.

The Goose. Lucius. Goose Face.

Much more stuff, more serious stuff, to come.