Thanksgiving

Once again... if you're trying to reconstruct an accurate chronology of my life, I say: Nyah-nyah! (I'll even say it in Spanish: ¡Ña-ña!) No such luck!

For the first time ever, we had to break out the kiddie table for Thanksgiving. We had seven adults around the main table (the record is nine), including my parents, who were to leave for Spain again the following morning, May, Paul, and my Aunt Martha, who had driven down from Alaska a few days earlier.

Deborah was still overcome with babyness, so I stepped up to the task of making the turkey. (It came out fine... eventually.) Paul and May pitched in with the pie-making, and my mother brought among other things a cranberry salad that I need the recipe to one of these days. (I know you're reading, Mom.) Yummy scrumbos all around.

I had many things to be thankful for — many of whom have names — but Fiona took the cake for cute thankfulness. These were aided by her Sunday school and preschool teachers; I note that the one from Sunday school was a bit more high-minded. One can only wonder at the prompting.

Fiona's preschool teacher had never heard of gnocchi until now. She assumed it was the name of a pet.

Awww. We'll have to see if she still feels this way when they're sharing a room together many years down the road. Fiona was the subject of another girl's drawing, too, which warms the heart, as well.