Somewhere in the neighborhood a monk is chanting. I can hear the neighbors next door visiting. The breeze is blowing through the trees in my yard. My men are mowing the lawn.
Last night we had company…like twelve of them or so, and we ate pizza, ice cream, and very flat cookies. Dru mixed them up and I told him to not put that last half cup of flour in. When I do, they have too much flour. Of course, if he makes them, they’re flat. But nobody complained. He even sent the rest of them home with the boys.
I made a fallish center piece with what I had on hand. I think I must have pitched the fall leaves that Dru’s Dad sent three (wow, three!) years ago. Duh. Anyway, I did okay with some red apples, my doily from Grandma Ruth, and some tall grass that was growing in my yard, and cloth napkins. Oh, and I got out one of my big candles that I bought in the states. Lovely.
We were going to go to Criag’s for Thanksgiving but now it will have to be the day after or so. Dru double booked, not that he had any say in actually. It just so happens that one of the English camps he’s in charge of lands on Thanksgiving Day. I could almost became discouraged about Thanksgiving Day in Thailand. People just don’t have that holiday here—and it’s very near and dear to my heart. Thankfully, we have Craig’s. Even if we have to go a day late.
I’m kind of leaving my bean bag some. I have this dream that the morning sickness is going away already, but I’m quite sure it will return once I decide that it’s gone. So I’m not holding my breath.
I’m supposed to bake some sort of cookies or bars for church tomorrow. Like one hundred fifty of them. Brownies, cookies, something. I really don’t mind, but I wish my oven had more than one rack in it. It’s a slow hot process with my little not-insulated oven.
Jube is climbing and falling a lot these days. Up the green stool in the middle of the kitchen and off on his back. Out of the crib. Down the stairs. Over his own feet. We like him a lot and think he’s really cute. It’s funny because I thought that I was going to be the “disciplinarian” in the family. I’m the softy actually. It’s Dru who lays down the law much more consistently. He gets by with it though. Jube thinks Daddy is just the best. He doesn’t like when Dru leaves without him and he’s up and running as soon as the gate opens when he gets back. He’s also taking to calling him in a loud voice. “Da-da? Daaaaaaaaaaa? DA! DA!” Or something like that. And Dru obligingly answers from where ever he is in the house. Dru’s a softy too, in his own way.
Ok, I’m going to go get at it. This is all rambley anyway. How long will it take to bake 150 of something?