Ready, set . . .

It's almost Thanksgiving--the eating holiday!

Greg and I both took the afternoon off today, me to prepare baked goods and Greg to get in another ride on his motorcycle. We're having unseasonably warm temperatures, so he's getting his ass out there before the snow flies again.

I made homemade pumpkin pie, pecan pie, and Bavarian apple torte. Mmmmmmmm.

I love pumpkin pie with whipped cream and I love the apple torte, which is just a butter crust, cream cheese with sugar/vanilla/egg, and then cinnamon apples on top.

They aren't family recipes, so I'm not going to add them to Dan's contest, but they are good.

My parents are already here for the holiday and my sister Claudette and brother-in-law Mike are coming this evening and that's all we're having for guests. I asked my mom if she thought it would be OK if I had a little slice of pie, since it's just us family.

Pardon my french, but we're going to have a shitload of food left over. Besides the baked goods, Greg is planning:

deviled eggs
deep-fried turkey
ham
mashed potatoes
sweet potatoes with bananas (that's a new recipe, we'll see how it comes out)
stuffing
scalloped corn
glazed carrots
coleslaw
baked beans
rolls

We're planning to eat tomorrow about 1 p.m. If you don't have anywhere to be, feel free to stop by for the gorging. If we run short of pie, I'll arm-wrestle you for the last piece.

He's the man

I've written before about how I love James Bond movies, so it was really cool that Greg and I (like other people that Greg links to) were able to see the new Bond movie (for us, on Sunday night).

It was excellent. Long! Things kept moving, though, so it was very good. We were OK that we didn't get home to put the girls to bed as we had thought, because we were off having an adult mini-adventure, thank you very much. We very rarely get to go to adult movies.

I loved the first chase sequence. I liked it when he got the best of M. I liked it when he actually deferred jumping into bed with a woman to chase a clue, instead of forgetting what he was supposed to be doing. The airport scenes were cool.

OK, I really liked it. Greg did too, though it certainly showed Daniel Craig's torso more than it did any half-naked women.

Other than Sean Connery, I have a new favorite Bond. Not that any of the others were really a competition to Sean, but Daniel is. I can't wait for the next one!

Paying my dues

When I first graduated from college, I was meticulous about paying bills. Actually, I've always been meticulous about money.

I remember getting my first savings account when I was 9 and then most Fridays, when my parents did their banking (remember when you went to the bank every Friday to do your banking for the week?), I would make $1 and $3 deposits.

I always saved more than I spent and when I started working at 16, I saved even more. Later, my parents paid my tuition for college, but I had a work-study job and I never asked them for any additional money for living expenses.

By the time I graduated, I had a rather large chunk of student loans to pay off and I steadily worked away at them until I was debt free. Then I bought my first new car and my condo.

So, you can see, pretty fiscally responsible.

So now I'm 41 and I put off paying bills like nobody's business. I'm lucky if I can make myself sit down and do it twice per month.

Oh, I'm never late on anything. I make sure I check due dates and write the checks I need to write (no, I don't do online banking), but balancing all those direct deposits, ATM withdrawals, and grocery store checks written just seems like such a chore.

And it is. Tonight, I sorted through a huge stack of mail, threw out a ton of papers that Allie produced at school, opened some bills, sorted about six or seven EFT direct deposit forms, recorded two and a half pages of checks written earlier, and paid about five bills. It took me about an hour and a half.

Who wants to do that. Do you have a bad financial habit? Are you one of those people who just believes the balance the bank gives you?

Do you think the bank could just be screwing us all? That is, in addition to the remarkable fees they charge nowadays . . .

Stocking Up

Greg has been slowly purchasing the ingredients for our Thanksgiving feast next week. We don't have an especially huge refrigerator, so one thing he's delayed buying so far is the actual star of the show, Mr. Turkey.

In the past, my husband has baked turkeys, brined and baked turkeys, and deep-fried turkeys. This year, just to change things up, he's going to brine and deep-fry.

I guess the latest trend is actually to smoke a turkey or make one on the grill (which has the advantage of freeing up oven space), but we're going to stick with something more tried and true.

We're only having four additional people for dinner. Since he also bought a ham, you had better all bring your appetites.

Next week, I'm starting on the pies!

Questioning

In the mail today, we got a questionnaire to complete from the local school district. Julia is now eligible for early childhood education, if she isn't meeting certain developmental goals.

Among many other things, we had to figure out if Julia knew how to count to three or five, for example (Julia counted to eleven, then said firteen [13] then sisteen [16]). We had to see if she knew her colors. We asked her to jump with both feet. We asked questions about whether something was over or under. We asked "what do you do with an apple" and "are you a boy or a girl" and "what's your name" and "how old are you"?

She did great. I don't think, based on our responses, that we'll be getting a call from the school district. Julia's pretty normal, and that's a wonderful thing.

About three weeks ago, we went to Allie's school for a parent-teacher conference. She's doing just fine too. She's having a little trouble with reversing the order of her letters and numbers occasionally, which I think is at least partially due to being a lefty. Her teacher says it's not necessarily that and that it's perfectly normal.

I remember when my parents went to parent-teacher conferences for me. Even though I was a good student, it was always a little nerve-wracking knowing they were talking to my teacher. I can't imagine what those conferences were like for the parents of the "BAD KIDS."

Let's hope I never have to find out!

New worries

Every work day, Julia goes to a small family daycare just up the hill from our house. Allie gets off the bus after school and walks to the same daycare. Then Daddy comes by about an hour and a half later and picks them both up at once. We know they get wonderful care there and it's wonderfully convenient.

Our daycare provider, who we love and needless to say our children love, is pregnant. She's been having complications for awhile (though you wouldn't have know it to see her or talk to her) and things worsened last week. She went to her OB/GYN for a check and boom, they admitted her to the hospital for observation.

We thought it was going to be overnight, then it was going to be two nights, and we found out at the end of last week that she's likely going to be hospitalized until she has the baby. She's only at 26 weeks, so she would normally have 14 weeks to go yet.

We're scared and nervous for her, for her unborn child, her husband, her other two kids, the rest of her family, and, of course, for ourselves. Our family isn't religious, but hers is, so for her sake I'm saying a prayer that she, her baby, and everyone else in her family is going to come through this OK.

Us, well . . . It's so absolutely godawful to be thinking about ourselves in this situation, but of course we can't help it. We're worried about how well things are going to work out with the daycare staying open (right now, the plan is for various relatives of hers to help out at least through the end of the year).

We're worried about Julia adjusting to not seeing her (though of course, her own children will have things so much worse that it seems petty to mention it), and about Julia adjusting to her new caretakers (though I'm sure they're all wonderful people and we already know some of them).

We're worried about where Allie will go if the daycare has to close, since we can find all-day daycare for Julia somewhere if necessary, but figuring out where Allie goes when she gets off the bus is a little more complicated.

And I'm concerned most of all about how she's going to make it through this period. Laying in a bed in a hospital, alone for a good part of the time, worrying about everything and everyone. And unable to make things change.

We have options to handle our fears. She doesn't have a whole lot. So please, say a prayer for her and her family to get through this OK.

Overload

There are three people on three different computers in our house right now.

Greg is on his laptop on the couch. Allie is on our desktop in her room. I'm on our other desktop in our bedroom.

Greg is playing a word game. Allie is playing a drawing game. I was cruising the internet.

Julia is napping, like a good three-year-old. If she wakes up, however, she can have this computer to play with Elmo.

I have my work laptop home, so I can keep cruising the net if I want to. I don't think I want to.

Winter wonderland

We're in the midst of our first snowstorm of the autumn. All over the state (and region, really), cars are sliding into ditches and some people are getting hurt. As an adult, snowstorms cause me to (at least mildly) worry about my family and friends.

It got me thinking about being a kid. When I was little, it seemed to snow a lot more and a lot more often.

I remember the snowbanks in the front yard of the house we lived in at the time and how they were always enormous. Dad and my sister Pam would get out there and shovel (Pam still likes to shovel, for some strange reason) and they'd throw the snow up higher and higher.

Then my sisters and I and all the kids of the neighborhood would build elaborate snow forts, complete the piles of snowballs for the next snowball fight, and places to sit, and windows, if we could manage it. I hated getting a snowball in the face more than anything.

I remember going ice skating at the rink next to my grade school. We couldn't wait for the city to brush the new snow off the rink with a big circular brush attached to the front of a jeep.

I also remember being on the rink one night when they were brushing it and having to leap for our lives into a snowbank to avoid getting run over. We were way too close, considering he wouldn't have been able to stop on the ice.

The city would turn the back entrance of my school (the entrance we used every morning and for recess) into a warming house for the rink, so there'd be thick black mats protecting the floors for months at a time.

I remember going out to play with rough wool snow pants on, and coming in with the cuffs and knees so crusted with snow that they would hardly bend. My pants and my sisters' pants would drip and be soaked for ages, drying in the back hallway, next to our mittens and hats.

I started wearing glasses in the third grade, and I remember being outside for so long that when I came in, it didn't seem like my glasses were ever going to thaw out so I could see again.

And since we didn't have money for a snowblower, I remember being resentful of people who did. They had perfect edges where they'd cleared their sidewalks, so we'd walk along to school and purposely kick our feet to knock down the edges. Not enough so they'd have to shovel or anything, but enough so their sidewalk didn't look nicer than my family's.

And then we'd wait for the next snowstorm. With anticipation, instead of worry. But my kids have inherited that mood of anticipation from me. Tomorrow, maybe we'll make a snowman together. And enjoy the beginning of winter.

Paul Harvey

And now, the rest of the story of last Saturday.

Greg's alarm went off at 4:45 a.m. I tried (unsuccessfully) to go back to sleep until he left the house at 5:15. He kissed the girls before he left, so at 5:20, Allie called me to her room, sobbing because she was sad that Daddy left.

At 5:25, after I got her calmed down, Greg called to say he was on the highway with a flat tire and needed us to come with the other car. I woke up Julia from a sound sleep, told Allie to put on some pants, and started downstairs, only to realize that I'd forgotten to put pants on.

After a brief delay, we got on our winter coats and buckled up and drove out to where Greg was stuck. Greg and I scooped up the girls and put them in their carseats in the other car (at least his car was warm) and Greg had to leave to catch his flight. He was scheduled to leave at 6:50 and it was already 5:45 (and he had a good 20 minutes more to drive to the airport).

The three of us girls sat on the side of the state highway until 6:05 or so, talking about why we were awake and what was going to happen when the tow truck driver Daddy had called showed up. It's still dark at that time on cloudy mornings and Greg doesn't have a flashlight in his car. I asked the tow truck driver if he could just put on our spare tire (or as the girls took to calling it, the baby tire), rather than tow us. Thank goodness, in a five-year-old car, it wasn't flat too.

Another 15 minutes and $52.50 later, we drove home. Naturally, at this point, having the girls go back to sleep, as I would gladly have done, was out of the question. So we stayed awake and mid-morning, I started trying to find a place to get four new tires put on (we should have replaced these tires months ago).

Two places said they were first come, first served for appointments and one said they were already backed up four hours. Then I called Tires Plus and asked if they made appointments and the guy said, sure, come in at noon. I confirmed that putting on the tires would take about an hour. Perfect!

We drove up to Madison, a trip of about 20-25 minutes normally, most of which is on a two-lane highway. The tow truck driver had warned me not to drive on the compact spare tire at any faster than 50 miles per hour, so we drove just a little under 50. Considering weekends are supposed to be relaxing for most people, there are a lot of really pissed off people on the roads on Saturday mornings. I kept looking in the rear view mirror to see how many cars were lined up behind me. When a bunch finally passed, I even got honked at and motioned to. Loads of fun.

So we showed up at noon at Tires Plus and registered. Then we walked a block and a half to a restaurant for lunch (in the cold wind). Then we walked back and Julia fell and skinned her knee. Then she wouldn't walk anymore. Did I mention that she weighs 30 lbs. now and she feels like more in a winter coat, hat, and shoes that light up?

We got back to Tires Plus and our car was back in the same stall in the parking lot. Correction, it was in the same stall in the parking lot, and hadn't been moved, because the baby tire was still on the front wheel.

I asked at the desk if they were going to start on our car anytime soon and the desk person said, I don't know what you were told but our computer shows we expect to finish your car about 2:15. It was about 1:10. I said, are you going to bring it into a service bay anytime soon. He said, yours will be the next car serviced, as soon as a bay becomes available.

I said, are you close to being finished on any of the cars currently in the bays. He said, we'll get to it as soon as possible (in other words, no). I said, we're leaving. He apologized. I said, we're leaving. He had to take the charge off my credit card and we were on our way.

I was not going to drive home with that tire. I was not going to try to go somewhere else. Julia and Allie were both wiped out at this point from waking so early and it's not fun to sit in a stinky (rubber scented) dirty tire shop for hours with a football game on the TV and try to entertain two crabby, tired girls.

We drove to the airport, which was conveniently only about two miles away. When we got there, I realized that though I'd spoken to Greg during his layover, I hadn't asked where he'd parked my car. There's a pretty good sized ramp at this airport, plus long-term surface parking.

Assuming that Greg would go for the more expensive ramp parking because his company is paying for it, we headed in there. I immediately realized that we were going to be very lucky to find our car quickly. And our luck finally changed. We found it in just a couple of minutes and a couple of levels (nice spot, honey!).

I pulled the car out, parked the other car in the same spot, transferred the girls, transferred his intake ticket for the ramp, wrote a quick welcome home note, and we left.

And we managed to do it within 15 minutes, so there was no charge for being in the long-term parking ramp (shades of Fargo, averted).

Greg will be home on Thursday and he'll have to drive my car to work on Friday while I take one more trip to my work with the compact spare. Then Saturday, when we have two cars and can leave one and GO AWAY, SO WHO CARES HOW LONG IT TAKES YOU TO FIX IT, we'll get it fixed.

I am quite convinced we should have done this ages ago. Consider me reformed when it comes to tire maintenance.

The day ended well. The girls both took naps in the afternoon, Julia a long one and Allie a short one. We went to a McDonald's playland in the evening and they both had a blast. And at the end of the day, I have a car with four good tires (at least at the moment).

How was your weekend?

324

That's how many trick-or-treaters (or as my family calls them, halloweenies) that we had visit our house last night in two hours.

That's a pretty good year. I don't think it's a record. The second year we lived in our house, the weather was warm and kids were out for a long time, even young ones. That year I think we topped 350.

Most people I've talked to say that they get anywhere from 30-50 kids. Why do we get so many more? We live on the corner of a pretty busy street and we live on a cul de sac.

Plus Greg puts some effort into our decorations. This year, we had the traditional full-size mummy man, fog machines, black lightbulbs, and strobe lights. Yes, plural strobe lights. I now have epilepsy.

Trick-or-treating started at 6:00 and Greg started off around the neighborhood with the girls. I sat in a lawn chair on the new front porch and waited (we never bother to sit inside or you'd just have the front door open all night).

I had two kids come up. The little ones are pretty freaked out by the mummy, so I'd call, "It's OK. We're nice! It's just pretend." Then I waited and looked down the street to see who else was coming.

There was a group of kids coming out of the house across the street and some came around the corner and some appeared from up the hill and within 3 minutes, I had 25 or so kids. Then in another 5 minutes, I was already up to 50 kids. Yes, we keep track. It's a tradition in my family.

We made it most of the way through the 2 hours before we ran out of candy, until about 7:40. That's pretty good--the first year we lived here, we had no idea of what to expect and we ran out of candy in 20 minutes. Greg ran back to the store twice before we gave up and turned out the light.

We're cash-poor now because we spent all of our money on candy (literally about $50), but at least we had fun. Happy belated Halloween to you!

Hallowed ground

I don't really understand why one of my latest favorite shows is "House Hunters" on Home & Garden TV.

The entire concept of the show is that you get to know a little bit about a family or couple and their current living arrangement. Then they look at three new homes. Then they pick one of the homes. That's it.

They have two versions of the show, one for American couples and one called "House Hunters International," where a couple or family does the same routine as above, but in Rome or England or Belize.

It's fascinating to see what you can get for $500,000 in Rome (a one-bedroom apartment with some character) or in Buxton, England (a seven-bedroom home with room for a mother-in-law) or Belize (a three-bedroom house with a pool, beach, and boat slip, fully furnished).

It doesn't make me want to move, however.

Family not dynamic

Weekend mornings are always very slow in the Lee household.

Usually, Greg gets up with whatever child comes walking into our bedroom on Saturday mornings and I do the same on Sunday mornings. What time that arising occurs is strictly a matter of chance.

Yesterday, I got up when Julia and Allie both wandered into our bedroom at 7:15 because Greg had flight delays and didn't get in until 12:30 p.m. He stayed in bed for awhile and got up later.

This morning, when Julia came into our room at (gasp!) 6:10 or so--because of the time change last night--Greg heroically dragged himself out of bed to try to convince her to go back to sleep. Didn't work.

I lazed in bed for quite a bit longer, then was the last in the family to get up, past 8:00 (are you jealous, Dan?).

And we haven't been doing much since. Greg made an amazing breakfast and cleaned up afterwards (yes, I protested). I read the paper. The girls played in the living room. Greg watched TV.

That's pretty much what happens every weekend morning, until we get motivated by whatever we're supposed to get accomplished and someone gets in the shower.

It's pretty bad when your three-year-old begs to get dressed.

I can't even count how many times Dan has seen my family in their jammies because we get online with him on Saturday or Sunday mornings and no one has dressed yet. Fortunately my weekly call to my mom is by phone, not by webcam, or we'd be doing that with even more people.

Today, we need to go buy Allie more winter clothes, especially pants. Greg asked me mid-morning when I was going to be finished with the newspaper. He then started watching an hour-long program on TV. I stopped reading and came upstairs to shower. Now I've been ready to go for awhile, it's noon, and Greg is still watching TV (Tivo, by the way). On other weekends, it is just as frequently me that's dragging their feet.

The sun is shining and it's a beautiful day to get those outdoor autumn projects done, plus we do have to go shopping.

Yet I sit in our bedroom typing and my family is downstairs playing and watching TV.

Just call us the potato family!

Morning edition

On a normal work/school day, I get up almost an hour before Greg and over an hour before I wake up the girls.

I use the time to shower, do my hair and makeup, feed the cat, eat breakfast while reading the paper, brush my teeth, sometimes check online, and to get my thoughts organized for the day.

It's my quiet time. I don't watch TV and I don't talk to anyone except maybe Greg, if he's not still trying to get nine more minutes of clock radio snooze.

Greg is in Pittsburgh (he'll be home tomorrow), so this morning I got up quietly and went down the hall to get fresh towels for my shower. The linen closet door sticks a little, so it made a little bit of a noise as I opened it.

I went back down the hall to our bathroom, got my things organized, and I noticed that the bathroom door was open slightly. I've set the cycle on our electronic thermostat to kick in and start bringing the house temperature up as I get out of the shower, so I went to close the door against drafts.

And in walked Julia, holding her blankie up to her eyes against the light. She was awake, and I couldn't pan her off on my husband to try to get her to go back to sleep.

Did I mention it was 5:30?

Things have been just a little bit off all day, ever since. They'd both better sleep in until I wake them in the morning, or I'm going to be panning them off on Daddy as soon as he walks in the door.

Welcome home, honey. Bye!

Is it breakfast time yet?

I usually eat toast for breakfast, obviously. Two slices, nicely buttered, no jelly, made sequentially.

But when I was little, I almost always ate cereal for breakfast. Cheerios, Rice Krispies, Froot Loops, and Super Sugar Crisps (which they wimped out on and renamed Super Golden Crisps some years back, the losers--like they're fooling anyone). You have to admire a cereal company that actually put "Sugar" right on the front of the box in huge letters, however.

I think my favorite cereal, though, was Quisp.

Remember Quisp? With the little martian guy? Weird name for a cereal, but it was gooooood.

It wasn't until I was in college that I realized Captain Crunch was exactly the same as Quisp. What's the matter, Mom and Dad, was Quisp cheaper?

Occasionally, I'll still see Quisp in the cereal aisle of our local supermarket, but it doesn't seem to really be around anymore. Greg and I both snatch it up when we see it.

Someday, that little martian guy is going to find his way home, and all we'll be stuck with in America is the Captain. That will truly be a sad day.

Lessons from the tub

Allie is 6 1/2 now and I'm trying to teach her how to take a shower. I guess I never realized that shower-taking was a skill but she apparently has not been paying any attention the last approximately 476 times she's been given a bath or shower because she doesn't seem to know how to do it.

When I instruct her, facial feature by facial feature, how to wash her face, she doesn't seem to get it that in order to actually effect the removal of dirt, she needs to unball the washcloth and scrub more than gingerly.

I asked her, Allie, do you understand how Mommy and Daddy rub you to get you clean? She said, I guess I was playing.

No more rubber duckies for her, if I don't want to still be doing this chore when she's 10.

Dance, Elementary School Style

Last night, Greg was tired from shoving crates around all day, so I took Allie to her fall school dance.

Last year, Greg was traveling and Allie begged me to go, so I took both girls. It was not fun to have Julia trying to climb me all evening because of the scary costumes (despite the school's plea for kids not to wear scary outfits).

So this year she stayed home with Greg and Allie and I snuck out. We put our canned food donation in the barrel, checked out the D.J., looked at the costumes of the other kids, waited in line for a snack, checked out the pumpkin contest entries (yeah, I completely believe that all of those were prepared by kids--give me an f-ing break), took Allie's picture, tried to get Allie to do the hokey pokey, and watched as her principal was duct-taped to the wall for charity. At the end of the night, they take away the stool he's standing on and see how long he sticks there.

Allie was not having fun, because she hadn't seen any of her bestest friends yet. We were on our way to the door to leave when, hallelujah, we ran into one of her friends, Hannah.

A sweet hug followed between a harvest princess and Supergirl (Allie) and the two of them ran off to chase boys, which they did for the next half hour. Then Allie's quarry turned around unexpectedly and she got her tooth bumped. Suddenly, she realized she was tired and hot, so she said goodbye to Hannah and we left.

No underage drinking, no sex, no rejection from a crush, no teasing for her style of dancing or because of what she was wearing. First grade dances are great, from a parent's point of view!

My favorite things about this weekend

My favorite memories about our weekend in the beautiful Door peninsula:

Trying wine samples at the Von Stiehl Winery in Algoma and remembering how we liked the tour the last time we went, 11 years ago, on our first real vacation together as a couple.

Stopping at my grandparent's graves to put flowers on. I haven't been there for at least 10 years and it was way overdue. It doesn't fit with the tone of the rest of the weekend, but I'm glad we stopped.

Eating at the Inn at Cedar Crossing restaurant and afterwards reading Greg's funny comment from 11 years ago in the B&B's guest book.

Getting to our cottage and finding it even better than I had hoped, cute, immaculate, nicely decorated, quiet, and even better overall than the pictures that made me book it online.

Having Greg unclench after only 10 minutes at our cottage.

Visiting Wind Cave County Park and watching my husband get wet by being daring.

Spending time exploring the county with my husband and having a wonderful time despite the fact that it was very cold and very windy and occasionally snowing.

Seeing a good play in an unheated theater, surrounded by people wearing hats, mittens, hoods, blankets, and boots.

Sleeping in a wonderful bed with the window open, so we could occasionally hear the waves on the shore.

Not having to get apple juice in sippy cups as soon as we got up.

Having an entire second day to do exactly what we wanted to do and no more.

Being with my husband.

Seeing my girls again on Sunday morning.

Overheard

"Leave your panties on. Julia, leave your panties on! If you don't leave your panties on, the police are going to come and arrest you."

Gregory, my dear, just because that worked on you when your mom told you that 35 years ago doesn't mean it's going to work on our little one. The child thinks it's funny to be naked.

Fortunately, winter is coming closer every day and she also doesn't like to be cold. I'm think the naked thing will be short-lived.

Bad cat

Last night, we had chicken for dinner. The bones went into the trash and we forgot to close the door to the mudroom where the trash can is. What does this mean?

Pig went scavenging at 3:00 this morning and had herself a little snack! We were having a thunderstorm, Allie had called me to come into her room, and I was trying to go back to sleep with I heard it go over.

She's naughty. What a surpise that she didn't eat all of the food we gave her (in her dish) last night!

That's a whole decade!

Ten years ago this month, I was a busy woman.

Greg and I were in the final stages of planning our wedding, which took place on October 19.

My dad had selected the polka music he wanted played at the reception, Greg and I had practiced polkaing together, we'd found the cartoon videotape we wanted playing for the kids (and adults) at the reception until the bridal party got there, we'd arranged the rental of the popcorn machine, Greg's sisters were getting fitted for their tuxes (they were our ushers), Greg had arranged for the school bus to take us and the wedding party from the church to the hall, and other assorted sundry details were being handled.

We had a lot of traditional elements to our wedding, but we tried to put in fun touches too. One of the things we weren't able to do was to have a snowcone machine. The reception hall was too freaked out about possible carpet stains. As it was, we had to guarantee extra money for the popcorn cleanup.

Did I mention that my Uncle Jim had many, many drinks at the reception and forgot a batch of popcorn in the cooker? Just a little smoke, no big deal. (Though it was a no smoking hall, which was marvelous.)

We had an amazing, wonderful day with our families and friends. As soon as it was over, we both said that we'd like to do the entire day over again from start to finish, as long as we didn't have to pay for it again.

Did I mention the Chinese Fire Drills around the school bus in the middle of traffic?

It was the happiest day of my life and it still is. It's been a wonderful ten years. I love you, Gregory!