In which turkey is only delicious when processed and canned.
It's been awhile since we've written. Sadly, Owen's adventures since Halloween have deteriorated into a steady drone of corporate year-end and pre-holiday madness. Lots of running around and wondering where the hours went.
And so it was nice to take some time today to pause and reflect on the year that's been. In the depths of my post-feast tryptophan haze, I spent a moment listing the things I'm thankful for this year:
I'm thankful for the new aluminum clad windows which replaced the charm of our rustic, wooden paned glass with frames that actually repel cold and prevent hypothermia.
(I once asked a college friend to shoot me in the head if I ever spoke fondly about home repairs or lawn care. I hope he isn't reading this.)
I'm thankful for bath mats lined with liquid resistant rubber. Our brilliant Owen has learned that, if you're going to pee on the floor after your bath, tile has a splash factor and bath mats do not. Therefore, always pee on the bath mat.
I'm thankful for disgusting jars of processed turkey sticks. Because of these slippery little marvels, I can cook a skilletful of delicious fried rice, watch Owen feed that to the dogs, and still have something to feed him for dinner.
I'm thankful for the batteries that can be removed from blaring ambulances and singing animals and books that shout-- mysteriously rendering all of them mute.
But mostly I'm thankful for a little boy who makes me laugh every day and for my good fortune in having a wife, a family and a collection of friends to love and to be loved by.
