This is the last child-safety plug in our house. I didn’t even realize we still had any until I set up the Aerobed in the basement for Max over the holiday weekend.

Today, Amy talked about how having an overloaded laundry basket was way worth it to have her daughter home for the holiday. I can’t imagine those days. (And I can’t imagine not hating laundry, either.)

I’m still walking past the bin of Brio trains wondering when the boys stopped playing with them. I still get excited when they start a Lego project together.

I love the kids big. Well, big is a relative term, I know.

I love them bigger. They’re interesting and fun and great to talk to. But I miss having my little cuddle bunnies.

And, aside from Reed on occasion, it’s really weird that I no longer have to worry about anyone putting his fingers or metal objects in the sockets.

The morning after one of the biggest meals of the year.

What to do?

Here’s an idea. Let’s bake!

We decided to give pretzels a try!

I admit they are not beautiful. We were experimenting having never made these before. I think I’d like to make them bigger next time so they look more spread out. More like Auntie Anne’s.

It’s a little ‘chunky’ but they smell amazing, and, if I must say so myself, they are pretty darn tasty.

And you have to admit that the pretzel above bears a spooky resemblance to….

The Natty Bo guy!

It’s early on Thanksgiving morning. And while hanging out in my comfy cozy bed sounded like something to be grateful for, I decided to join Andrew to donate blood instead.

It seems he has special blood and never had some weirdo virus and so the Red Cross calls him constantly. And he gives almost as frequently.

My blood? Nothing special but they always need O+ and I find donating pretty easy – no muss, no fuss.

I failed the iron test. I gave up the warm, cuddly bed for this?

I asked for a re-test.

And I thought ironic thoughts.

It worked.

I am grateful for so many things. My family, friends, health, business, my bed…oops lost my concentration there for a second.

Must be the blood loss.

Happy Thanksgiving. I wish health and happiness and squash soup and pumpkin ravioli and turkey and pecan pie and peace for all.

Yes, I hereby nominate myself for mother of the year.

I forgot my kid’s parent-teacher conference.

I’m so proud.

I slept in this morning.

I mean really, really slept. It was heavenly.

When my eyes finally opened at 10:00 a.m., the house was quiet. I knew that Andrew had taken the boys to religious school and that he was somewhere in the house. I reached over, picked up the phone and called the other line.

“Ready for coffee?” he asked.

Now that’s service.

Once I read the paper, it was time to start making pasta again. We’d made some last night, but need to make a better dough before making some for our Thanksgiving dinner. So I mixed and rolled. And the spaghetti came out pretty well.

Still, I need more practice. Fortunately, having more homemade pasta is not a bad thing.

After the boys got home, it was time to hang up the apron and head out the the Visionary Arts Museum.

What an amazing place!

No photos inside, or I’d have filled this post with pix that’d amaze you. But you’re going to have to go see for yourself. Suffice it to say, the art is inspiring. The stories beyond believability.

The boys hadn’t wanted to go. But each found inspiration and something he’d have been sad to have missed.

And I got to see a film about painted window screens and a bigger than life paper-mache/sculpture of Divine (seriously double life size & rotating!).

In front of a mirrored mosaic bus.

Life-sized chess board made from weird metal parts!

Tapestries and lights.

Mosaic egg. It’s huge! Our 10 year old asked, “Is that supposed to be a Faberge Egg?” He knows what that is? Crazy, man!

View of Federal Hill from the museum.

Can you imagine the dinner conversation?

Well. Suffice it to say, the 2 that didn’t know that word did know what it was. And there were some pretty darn red faces.

I’m sitting here at BWI at 6 am. Been up since 4:30. It sure is quiet here because evidently most normal people don’t wake up this early.

But I’m heading to a meeting in Kentucky to present a report I’ve worked on for what seems like years ( but really is only a month or so.)

But I think I’ve found the answer.

I read all those productivity blogs and management rags. But here it is right in front of me.

The answer to greater productivity.

Sleep less.

Yes, you can have it all.

Well. All except rest and a perky demeanor.

My little bucket-head is double-digits. Yup, he’s 10 years old.

Hard to believe.

Thank goodness he still loves to cuddle. Otherwise, I might have to get a puppy.