Thursday, November 27, 2003

Gathering I'm pooped. End-of-the-week fatigue accumulation, plus aftereffects of Thanksgiving overindulgence. It's quaint what constitutes "overindulgence" for us these days -- along with dinner I had a glass of white wine and a thimbleful of Belgian beer. My three-year-old nephew had prepared a list of things he was thankful for, but he ditched it and started ad-libbing, expressing gratitude for his socks. There's so much that I'm thankful for that to make a list would keep me awake the rest of the night thinking of stuff I'd left out. It was Michael's first extended family gathering since shortly after his birth; we already think of the earlier get-together as being located in the distant past. His interactivity with the world is obviously much greater than back then -- he has an emerging consciousness of relationships, curiosity about people he meets, plus his own developing personality. He was fascinated by his cousin -- a somewhat bigger little guy who can run around and yell and bang on the Bee Bop Band drum. We'd worried he'd be overwhelmed, but he seemed to have a great time. 11:27:19 PM    comment [] Happy Thanksgiving Everyone! Autumn Almanac From the dew-soaked hedge creeps a crawly caterpillar, When the dawn begins to crack. It's all part of my autumn almanac. Breeze blows leaves of a musty-coloured yellow, So I sweep them in my sack. Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac. Friday evenings, people get together, Hiding from the weather. Tea and toasted, buttered currant buns Can't compensate for lack of sun, Because the summer's all gone. La-la-la-la... Oh, my poor rheumatic back Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac. La-la-la-la... Oh, my autumn almanac Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac. I like my football on a Saturday, Roast beef on Sundays, all right. I go to Blackpool for my holidays, Sit in the open sunlight. This is my street, and I'm never gonna to leave it, And I'm always gonna to stay here If I live to be ninety-nine, 'Cause all the people I meet Seem to come from my street And I can't get away, Because it's calling me, (come on home) Hear it calling me, (come on home) La-la-la-la... Oh, my autumn Armagnac Yes, yes, yes, it's my autumn almanac. La-la-la-la... Oh, my autumn almanac Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. (R.D. Davies) 9:44:23 AM    comment []

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