after.
Ahhh…
Ahhh…
By this time tomorrow, all the crap you see here will be hanging from the front of our house. Not quite Griswold-esque, but I’m looking forward to it all the same.
Reading Burgh Baby’s account of the traumatic loss of a Dora sock and recent developments at home have prompted me to offer a confession here — I still have a bumma. Or a blankie. Or whatever they’re called in your house. I was really attached to me bumma as a kid — in fact, I… Read More bummer.
It’s a little after 5 p.m., and I’m about to have a Thanksgiving dinner that can’t be beat. I hope your Thanksgiving was as nice as ours.
And that, boys and girls, is a fucking Thanksgiving Miracle. Thanks to The Wife, who’s done an awful lot of work in the last two days. And Miles? He’s good with it.
Mom and Dad arrive Wednesday afternoon. This is what the living room looks like right now. Yeesh. I think I’m going to bed.