photo by Tom Curtis, courtesy of freedigitalphotos.com
Don't worry, big guy. You and your little red floppy face thingy are safe around us today. If you used to have a porky pal and you found him missing from your crew in the last few weeks, well... sorry about that. A girl's gotta eat.
Yup, that's right. Our Thanksgiving dinner doesn't involve any gobble gobble, but the ham that will be served this evening should be just as delicious. The mashed potatoes and gravy are staples, as is the apple and sausage stuffing, but other than that, our family dinner is kinda simple and basic. (Just like us.) There will be pie, and even though it's storebought this year, it'll be consumed and delighted over with all the spirit that pie-loving folks like us can conjure up.
We've spent the past few Thanksgiving holidays at home, and they've been quite lovely, if you ask me. No dressing up means that I have no shame in wearing stretchy pants at the dinner table. Four years ago, my fabulous in-laws came to us, and my superstar mother-in-law made the entire dinner for us, while I spent the vast majority of the day in one small space, alternating between nursing and changing a week-old Pudge. In the years since, we've developed some of our own Thanksgiving traditions, and my favorite is definitely our annual hike in the state park that is conveniently right down the road.
Okay, hike probably brings to mind a much more intense experience than what we really do, for the reality is that we simply stroll through the woods, tromping over wooden-planked bridges, throwing rocks in the stream, and making a general raucous that keeps all signs of wild life far, far away from the trails. For all the wackiness that follows us wherever we go, I actually find some peace when we walk together in the woods, especially on Thanksgiving Day when my mind is primed for expressions of gratitude. I purposefully go a little slower at times, so that I can linger in the back of the pack, watching as Pudge cracks everyone up with his usual silliness, or observing Red frolicking in the way that only she can, or staring in wonder at the giant big kid that JAM is becoming, or sending loving looks toward the back of hubby's towering figure. I can find some quiet in that environment, even as whatever vicinity my children inhabit is always the very opposite of quiet. The quiet that I find is more of the spiritual kind, when my own mind silences itself, and the focus simply is on the moment at hand.
I didn't take a slew of pictures, but enough to show the highlights. Behold the majestic craziness that is my family.
Gearing up for the seven minute drive down the road.
(After this one was taken, Pudge wanted to confirm that he had indeed gotten in Mommy and Daddy's picture,
Junior Photobomber that he is.)
The three amigos at the entrance to the trail.
(Please ignore the crying fit in the middle... it's just about run out of steam at this point.)
Who's that trip-trapping over my bridge?!
(Yup, I'm the awful parent who tried to scare Pudge when he peeked over the side.)
Rock. It's what's always making that funny noise in the washing machine.
The view from the back of the pack.
JAM, practicing the art of looking like an uninterested pre-adolescent.
Pudge, fiercely guarding a trail near you.
Red, striking a pose.
Our beloved stream area, home to rock skipping, mud digging, shoe drenching.
A near impossible-to-get shot of Pudge staying still.
JAM, letting a smile escape, for his true happiness is found when he's outdoors.
A close up shot of our Red and her beautiful spirit on display.
Happy Thanksgiving,
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