holidays

Luke is now officially two months old. He can smile. He entertains us with witty sayings such as, "A goo ba goooo um." He has a proceeding hair line, chubby little arms, and feet that I absolutely must kiss whenever I see them. He enjoys eating, watching the rotating animals in his mobile march in endless circles, eating, staring at Christmas lights, eating, and he prefers to be elevated and moving at all times. If you bounce him contrary to the beat in any music that might be playing in the background, he notices and complains. That's my boy.

Friday night found me Christmas caroling with a knot of friends in the chilly night air. We were wrapped up in scarfs and coats and cloaks, gripping our song books through gloves and mittens. No doubt we looked a little like the blow-up snowmen and penguins that bedecked my neighbors' lawns.

Last night I took the Christmas decorations down from the attic. I pulled out the stockings and the candles and set to work decorating the mantle above the fireplace. There were four mini-pumpkins sitting there. Those ought to go out into the yard waste bin, I thought. I picked them up. They were all still in surprisingly good condition. Hmm. Well, it's cold outside. I'll take them out later. I put them down on the kitchen table.

It seems like everybody has that one attempted holiday meal that they never live down. Once at Thanksgiving my Uncle Steve put too much milk in the mashed potatoes. We all graciously thanked him for bringing the Cream of Wheat amid peals of laughter, and not a Thanksgiving goes by now that we don't recall this event as we pass around the mashed potatoes.

My spectacular blunder shall be known as The Coconut Chicken Cake Incident of Easter Dinner, 2005.