In all the excitement of almost blogging every day in December, I plumb forgot about Thanksgiving. 

Then Mom begged of me,  

"Please, oh most beautiful and intelligent daughter o'mine. Won't you graciously post those photographs of our in-the-vicinity-of-Plymouth Rock feast?" 

What do you think we did with all these eggs?

Mom beat the devil out of them! Bah!

Pay attention here.

This is gourmet, Southern style.

Gosh, if I could just reach in and snag one right now I believe I'd live forever.

Rising rolls...

Ready for the oven.

What to do when Mom comes to visit.

Bah! Kidding. 

The Jim Beam was for Pioneer Woman's whiskey glazed carrots. YUM!!!

Mom's beau, Richard, fell asleep watching a riveting Western on antenna TV. That's what we offer when you visit us - just enough channels to remember, all for free.

Why did the turkey cross the road?

To prove he wasn't chicken. Bah!

Why did the cook cross the road?

To prove she could keep her saggy britches up!

Just a little butter and they'll be all brown and done.

Just a little butter and he'll be all brown and done. :)

So blessed.

From the Island of Misfit Toys - a Benjy-in-the-Box

And the Christmas decorating may begin.

Emma let me sleep till 6 this morning. I managed to ignore her periodic howl for an hour before finally giving up and letting her out. Then back to bed for me because it was easier than being awake with a sore throat, achy aches, and threatening cough. Ick.

The boys and I wore our bummy clothes all the livelong day. (Not to be confused with bunny clothes.)

We ate buttered toast for breakfast, Bagel Bites for lunch, and peanut butter toast and apple sauce for dinner. We drank milk, water, and hot chocolate. We munched on Camden's peanut butter cookies and Aunt Tam's Swiss Cake Rolls topped with glistening icing. And we played Star Wars, watched Star Trek and Rudolph, and took turns playing on the computer. The only thing we had to do was keep the fire burning and vacuum dog hair. I'd call this a good day, aches and all. Now the boys lay asnooze in their beds while I sip hot Passion Peach tea with honey. Ahhhhhh.

Today came as a surprise when we got a call that school was delayed. It seems the overnight snowfall that didn't stick and winds knocked some loose branches on powerlines around the area. We ended up with no school at all. That's day 7 off this year, and it's only fall.

 You used up 
all the glue 
on purpose!

Camden can make the best peanut butter cookies. 

He whipped these up from scratch last night. 

By this afternoon, they were gone.

Benjy's still waiting on this wiggler to fall out.

I've kept the flames burning all day.

Our Christmas card

Oh Holy Night Religious Christmas Card

Turn your unique photos into Christmas cards with Shutterfly.

View the entire collection of cards.

Look for yours in a mailbox near you!

Benjy.

Ah, where do I begin?

This little man has such a heart for Jesus.

He woke up from a deep sleep a few nights ago, wailing. Loud, mournful wailing. Camden was the first to hear, so he ran to comfort his baby brother. We followed the sound upstairs.

Curled up in his bed, rocking back and forth, Benjy cried about orphans, children in far-away Africa and right here in Windsor who have nothing, "and I have so many toys that I don't know what to do with them!" 

This mother's heart was ablaze with love.

"I just want to tell them about Jesus," he cried. "I just want them to know about God."

This boy who suffered colic, silent reflux, delayed speech, and sensory integration disorder is more in tune with God than many a wise man. Oh, to have the innocent perspective of an 8-year-old. To have that deep, unmoving faith and love and compassion. I can learn so much from this son of mine.

A few days later, Benjy and Camden gathered to box up the entire Playmobile collection amassed in recent years. It's worth a hefty sum on ebay. They filled one 2x3x3-foot box and another one slightly smaller. And there are still Playmobile pieces scattered hither and yon. Most of these are Benjy's. He has decided to send them to our fourth grade teacher's daughter, Cami. She's a missionary in the Dominican Republic who works with and loves the island's children. 

They need toys. Toys are a luxury there. Toys would bless children who may or may not have food to eat, beds to sleep on, clean water to drink. The heart of the Dominican Republic, far from the shipping ports where cruise liners dock for excursions, beats for a people in need. Benjy heard their cry. 

God, please help me to hear the cries of your people and then to do something, like my son did. Thank you, Lord, for Benjy's heart, which beats for You. Amen.

Wendi, the Hunchback of Windsor.

Sounds better than it looks.

And why yes, those are the very same blue oxford pajama bottoms I have had since 2003, purchased for a mere pence at the Eddie Bauer outlet in Columbus, Ohio, go Bucks, or something like that.

Our perfectly wonky $35 tree is still standing, soaking up the water that so far not a creature has lapped. Praise for our creatures!

This was the first year in quite a while that I actually hearted every single minute of decorating the tree. I poked through the Rubbermaid box, putting aside the cheesy store-bought ones that held no personal value, pulling out the decorations that meant something. Tomorrow, assuming I get home before dark, because the sun sets here at the alarming hour of 4:30 p.m., I'll post pictures of some of my favorite ornaments. One has been on my tree since I was a wee thing. You'll want to see pictures of me as a wee thing. Yes, you will.

I didn't always have a hunch back.

The awesome thing about trimming this tree? As I put ornaments on I found myself praying for the person who gave each decoration to us.

Prayers for Curt's sister, Tam, who gives us the most amazing, intricately carved wooden ornaments each year. Our tree is mostly full of these.

Prayers for Uncle Mike, who passed away last month, and his ex-wife Diane. They attached one ornament to the top of a package I was given when my years were numbered in single digits.

Prayers for my dear high school friend Laurie, whose aunts made the noodle angel ornament. Even if the halo has since broken.

Prayers for Camden and Benjy for all their hand-made goodness in the last decade.

Prayers for Curt's mom whose dinging blue bells are always the first to go on the tree.

Prayers after prayers after prayers. No wonder I felt so blessed adorning this tree with these precious memories and their people.

Asking for blessings reaps blessings.

Emmalemmalimabean.

The day after we thought we'd lost her.

Did you even know we've had her longer than Camden?

We've had Emma for EVER. 

The boys tested for their belts today. 

Benjy tested for his midterm purple belt. 

Isn't he amazing?

Yes, he is intense.

Seriouser than his momma.

Who utilizes a nice giggle to throw her opponent off.

And Camden?

He's seriouser.

Has been since the day he discovered a chocolate milkshake from Sonic.

The dude is intense.

And ... 

His own father is even more mature.

You see what I have to live with?

And yet, it brings absolute familinarity at Christmastime. 

Yes, familinarity is a new word. 

The lamp heralds the season for the hood.

Somebody has to represent!

Emma discovered the bone left behind by Scooter's people, Nana and Richard. 

Benjy found it under the couch cushions, Emma took it over, and the rest is history.

Seriously.

The bone is gone.

G.

O.

N.

E.

Vanished.

How do they actually ingest these materials???

We found a tree farm today on the way home from dropping off Benjy's friend. 

$35, the sign said.

Hmmmmmmmm.

We'd paid more than twice that for a our tree in Ohio - and that was in the 90s! These were dingdang Dollar Tree trees! 

We wandered around the farm finding this tree and that, and then settling on a Fraser 7-footer that was missing a few branches from one side.

No matter.

It was right for Camden.

It was right for Benjy.

It was completely wrong in all the right ways.

This was the wonkiest tree I've ever seen. 

We knew it was ours.

Don't you just love it?

We do!

Simple,  tall, lop-sided, electric, wonky. 

A tree for 2011.

Blessing Buddies

What I like are mysteries. Not Sherlock and Agatha and those Party Hardy boys. I'm talking the real deal.

Secret Santa/Blessing Buddy Days started today at school. I got my Blessing Buddy name yesterday before I left. She likes Dunkin Donuts coffee. And this morning? Already I was blessed! I was early forcing the kids in the car, tearing out of the driveway, and hitting I-91, so I veered off the exit that leads to Dunkin Donuts and picked up a large coffee for my BB. The line at the drive-through was so long that I parked, jogged inside, ordered, grabbed, walked back to the car, and drove away ahead of the line. Blessings abound!

I was even able to have a friend deliver my gift to my buddy so that I wouldn't be discovered. Score! That's the important thing here, not to be discovered. Keeping it a mystery, my friends, is what it's all about.

I just love these days of intrigue.

Dec. 1st

It's been a long time, ya know? Since we last met, I have lived the pioneer life, Laura Ingalls Wilder cooking atop the wood stove and reading by candle light. When the northeast went black at the end of October, we survived for six whole days in by sunlight and six whole nights by fire. It could have been ugly.

But we have these fancy plug-ins that go in the cigarette lighters in the car that convert car power to real power. And we can use it to charge a host of items from a DSi to an Apple computer to a cell phone. So, it'd be a lie to say I was living entirely like Laura Ingalls. More like Nellie Olsen, I'd guess. Without the ringlets.

 I got a lot of reading done during this forced week off from school. I strained my eyes a bit. I can see why all the grown-ups wore glasses on those pioneer shows.

Curt read a lot, too. And by 8 p.m., the boys were asleep. By 10, we were. We slept like babies in the pitch dark of night. I don't think I've ever slept better.

In other news, it's December 1, the first day of my December Daily journal. And am I prepared to blog or journal this day? Why, no. I'll have to blog a week's worth of poignant entries this weekend to post throughout the week. Cause I got nothin' on a school night, people!

You know, it's really sad when you have most of the decorations up, the lights strung, the shiny stuff taking center stage, and you're too dingdang tired to plug it all in. Literally - plug it all in! Will Christmas be like that this year? Will I be too dingdang tired to plug in to the spirit of Christmas?

Every year I say the same thing. I'll spend less money on gifts, spend more time on Jesus. I'll live in the moment and enjoy the season as it unfolds. But then, I panic. I overspend. I stress to the point that the point of Christmas is consigned to the shadows. I tune in to the lights and tinsel and menu and packages that make a holiday. I forget about the very One I teach my 2nd graders to relish.

Will this be the year I change all that? I start every December 1st with the best of intentions. And by Dec. 2, I've dropped the ball. Perhaps this year I'll take it one day at a time, one moment at at time, and see how that squares. I must remember the Point of it all.

I have a lot to say, in true Windy fashion. 

We are back on the grid, and as much as my husband loved living off of it, I for one sang in high notes when the lights suddenly glowed last night. 

Benjy cried that I hurt his ears.

Ima tell you, I sang my heart out, and it didn't hurt my ears at all.

I have so much to share with you about this experience, but Blogger won't post my pictures. I've tried and tried and tried, but I just get a spinny Blogger. Kind of like when I tried to flip the light switches during our 5 days without the electric, as Grandmomma would say. A spinny Blogger symbol appeared in a ghostly mirage above the switch, thwarting my efforts.

So, when technology catches up with me, I'll post a proper update with illustrations to show what life was like on the prairie in Windsor Grove the week when the lights went out.