Hottest Vet in Town

See my husband.


See my husband sew.

See my husband sew up the raccoon-inflicted wounds of Feather, one of our three remaining hens.

See me add this to my list of "101 Reasons Tim is Cool." (Yes, the list exists. I started it when we were dating.)



Special bonus: Photo of daughters and two friends at co-op this morning. We don't do Halloween, but do you think I was really going to let pass an opportunity for them to wear those costumes in public, after all that blood, sweat and tears?


Not on your life.

Summer Photo Layout

I recently decided it might be possible to actually keep separate scrapbooks to send off with each of my kids when they (gulp) leave home one day. How might I do this, and keep up the family albums? Well, the family albums will take priority, and the kids' albums will be for layouts that are about them as individuals (accomplishments; Mom's random thoughts, etc.) But here's another key: I can use Photoshop to create photo collages, print out three of them, stick them onto some nice background paper, add some journaling, and ta-da! something to stick into each child's album.

For example, I give you ... Summer 2008 in Review. (In the family album, some of these events will merit, if time allows, their own pages, but in the kids' books, they're part of a summer-y (haw haw)).

I took this:



and this:

... and then printed it out at Costco, added a couple tiny pictures sticking off the side plus the journaling, and adhered it to some cherry orange cardstock with spiffy photo corners. No scanner, but here's a picture of the finished product!

Ye Olde Renaissance Festival

The title's a joke, folks, because my husband and I find it hilarious that any time one visits a place that celebrates any aspect of the past 1000 years, there's gotta be a "Ye Olde ____" in there somewhere.

Sure 'nuf, we found it at the Renaissance Festival! This is a yearly event in bucolic Plantersville, and we made the overnight trip with some friends who are the ideal traveling companions because not only are they super laid-back, but they also like to DO stuff. It's a tricky combination, but we're pretty compatible that way.

Because I am certifiably insane loving and ambitious, I managed to finish the girls' costumes about five minutes before we left the house the night before. The workmanship is, sad to say, rather shoddy -- my precocious eight-year-old niece could probably have done better. And I even chose the sleeveless version! Clearly, there is no future for me in costume design -- if I sew at all, I should probably stick to beanbags and cute little drawer sachets. Or patterns that bill themselves as "No-Sew." Because when Tim arrived home Monday, about thirty minutes later than I had expected him, not only was I frantically re-stitching a hem, but also throwing together a butternut squash soup and, um, thinking about packing. It wasn't the warmest welcome he's ever received.

But Tuesday dawned bright, cold and clear, and from a distance of about five feet, the girls looked gorgeous. And, since the festival turned out to be a bit of a 500-year-old shopping mall, we found them some adorable hats to match. Seriously, if you have a pile of money to burn, you could make out with some amazing additions to your dress-up box. Be still, my beating credit card.


Ian was in a state of ecstasy over the whole event. Armed with homemade battle-axe (duct tape, foam, PVC piping), he whirled like a dervish over the fairgrounds, soaking up the shows, rides, wooden armor for sale. We allowed them each one souvenir and one ride/attraction. You'll be flabbergasted to learn that while the girls chose hats and the merry-go-round, Ian had no trouble deciding on a handmade sword and a round of shooting at the archery gallery.


Highlight for our crowd? The JOUST. Too, too, cool.


I was pretty impressed by some of the OTHER costumes seen about the grounds. Clearly, there are folks out there who know what to do with scissors and a sewing machine. It takes all kinds to make a world.




(OK, I know this is TOTALLY off-topic, and I DO NOT discuss politics on this blog, in fact up until a couple days ago I really hadn't decided for whom to vote, but can I just say how irritating I find it that Obama has purchased this half-hour commercial spots on all the major networks tonight, which he can do because he is LOADED with cash, which he was able to do because he conveniently decided to ignore his promise to accept public campaign financing and take private contributions instead? His excuse is that "the system is broken," but hey, the other guy is working just as hard under the same broken system because a promise is a promise. I'm sorry, but the slipperiness under questioning and the media bias is really getting under my skin. Having lived through the nineties tends to make one wary of charisma without trustworthiness. Crucify me if you will. That's just how I'm feeling right now, and as Tracee likes to say, it IS my blog. Heh.)

Why I love my husband

... Because he stays up until midnight with me helping me sew the girls' costumes for the Renaissance Festival (because I really excel at PACING MYSELF on these projects). We leave tomorrow night with our friends the Dixons, and the gowns must be done or there will be a crisis of epic proportions.

And that is why I am not yet posting about the campout.

But I will. Soon.

Weekly Wrap-Up

We are getting ready to leave on a campout with a bunch of other families from the kids' AWANA club, but I wanted to post something brief about this week's learning. I'm updating my widget to show links.

Books We Read:

The Witch of Blackbird Pond (with Ian)
Children of Summer (with Ian)
Mitch and Amy (Ian)
Eyewitness Book of Natural Disasters (Ian)
Grandfather's Journey (with Eliza)
The Hello, Goodbye Window (with Eliza)
Little House on the Prairie (with Eliza)
The Best Nest (with Caroline)

Also, with some friends in our backyard we tried out the Diet Coke/Mentos Fountain (with experiment: does it work as well with mint Tic-Tacs, mint altoids, mint Dentyne gum? Answer: no. But they still taste good!)

Pursuit of Happiness

A happy childhood.

It's that elusive gift I think most of us strive to give our kids, but tend to lose sight of as the vision of their distant adulthood weighs upon us. What do I do now that will, as far as it depends on me, ensure that they're happy, productive, fully functional adults some day, engaging in satisfying relationships, contributing to their families, grounded by a strong conscience, etc., etc.?

But what about today? A mom on one of my local homeschooling lists commented recently that she thought a happy childhood is underrated, and it got me to pondering. I think our culture actually idealizes the concept, but when push comes to shove, much is lost in the rushing of our children from place to place, activity to activity, always one eye on the clock, and then wonder why they're so distractible. I'm as guilty as anyone else, but as God is my witness, I'm trying. Honest.

I don't know what my own three will think of their childhoods one day, but a day like today, not extraordinary by any means, gives me hope.

Happiness is ...

Spending the first thirty minutes of your day rolling around with your siblings in your parents' bed, giggling, shrieking, and falling into a giant pile of blankets.

Blow-drying your own hair. Oh, and doing your own mascara.


Finishing your math and Latin exercises and taking two hours to build an elaborate marble run (because at our house, schedules and to-do lists tend to be suggestions).


Taking a walk to the end of street and back because Mama says you need sunshine and fresh air, which really means that SHE needs sunshine and fresh air. Shhhhh.

Getting "smiley faces" for snack (apple slices with almond butter and chocolate chips)



Picking out the peanut butter and measuring rice from a bulk bin all by yourself at the grocery store.

Crying because your little sister's bare feet forfeited you a library foray, but having your tears dried with hugs and kisses and homemade popcorn.

Sitting on the front steps, waiting for Daddy, and cutting up old catalogs to make favorite-thing collages.

Knowing that every time your mom or dad says the words, "I have something important to tell you," they will, without a shadow of a doubt, be followed by, "I really, REALLY love you."

Fun Links for Ya

Not feeling particularly creative tonight, I thought I'd share a few links for your enjoyment:

Freerice.com -- This site has quizzes in all sorts of categories (I favor art and geography; Ian goes for English vocab and does quite respectably), and for every correct answer, sponsors will donate grains of rice to feed the hungry in a Third World Country. We can now feel good about getting sucked into an online game. :-)

Timez Attack -- We downloaded the free base version of the game, and plan to purchase the full version when it fits the budget. The most fun way anyone's ever come up with to drill multiplication tables. A huge hit here.

Shabby Apple -- So totally not an educational site. It's, um, a DRESS boutique. I allow myself to window-shop here occasionally, and maybe next time I sell an article, I will actually purchase something, like the "Antiquated" black dress or the "Ballerina" purple one (their prices definitely seem reasonable to me, though). How nice to have something NOT mass-produced in China (on my to-write list: a rant about how EVERYTHING these days seems to be MADE IN CHINA, probably by exploited factory workers. Hmph.). And these ladies support women in third world countries with micro-credit small business loans. And they have the cutest little-girl dresses. AND they have a "fit to flatter" feature so you can figure out from afar which dresses you should even consider. A few brief questions, and I discovered that I am, surprise, surprise, a "pencil" figure -- thank you, Shabby Apple ladies, for not calling it "stick." My dear husband would not like me to categorize myself this way, so I'm gonna whisper it softly: I am curve-challenged. ;-)
(Hey, if you check out the site, leave me a comment to tell me which dress is your favorite, or if you're feeling very revealing, what "fit" you are. Just for fun. Because we're all friends.)

Weekend abundance

So Saturday afternoon, we journeyed at the invitation of our friends Matt and Virginia Alexander, and their daughter Madeleine, to a potluck at a farm (really a gigantic vegetable garden) where they are CSA members.


Matt and Virginia were a teensy bit late, so when we arrived, bearing roasted sweet potatoes, we knew no one at first. And if there's one thing I dislike, it's arriving at a gathering of people who all seem to know each other. Reminds me of the first day of high school. But the food was all so delish, and the farmer family so friendly, and a woman recognized us from a Music Together class I did with the girls last year, and pretty soon the awkwardness faded.

Ian started complaining immediately about how the gorgeous weather with which we'd been blessed was TOO HOT, and how the graceful oaks providing us with arboreal shade for our feast were TOO INVITING TO MOSQUITOES. In fact, for the entire first half of our visit, he was quite the incorrigible sourpuss person-suffering-from-an-apparent-onslaught-of-airborne-allergens, poor boy. Because, of course, I needed my patience to be tested severely at an occasion like this.

Once he found a friend, though, all was well. Band members in overalls played the banjo and the fiddle, boys did battle with sticks (is there ever an activity so instantly bonding among young males?), and then the real fun began -- barrel rolling, sack races, and a three-legged race. The three eldest members of the Diller family participated at full throttle, while the younger two spectated with aplomb. Hurray that they're not old enough to be embarrassed by their mother leaping around in a old burlap sack.



Today after church, we headed out to Elgin for a family lunch with our relatives, something we've not done in a few weeks due to various travel schedules. Again, perfect weather -- just right for the kids to climb on the dirt pile after a luncheon al fresco.

We ended up with six of us parents and kids playing Apples to Apples Junior on the patio for about two hours. If you're ever looking for a social game that's rollicking for both kids and adults, I highly, highly, highly recommend this one.

I may look for the adult version to play with my siblings and their spouses at Thanksgiving (which means that according to tradition, I will ask the group assembled, "Want to play a game?" at which point they will either say "OK" and not move a muscle, or stare blankly into outer space until my youngest sister takes pity on me and says, "I'll play with you." She rocks, that sweet girl. Since we are lunatics enough to DRIVE there this year, I fully intend to play the sympathy card, though: "I finally got my kids all to bed, and I DROVE TWO THOUSAND MILES TO GET HERE, SO GOSHDARNIT, WHO'S UP FOR A GAME?" Because I'm nice and unselfish that way.)

It's a funny thing about family gatherings, I couldn't help musing during the hilarity this afternoon. Sometimes, the ones with such high expectations for bonding and magical moments, like holidays, end up feeling vaguely anticlimactic. While the best moments sort of sneak up on you from behind, on a day when nothing too special was promised to happen.

Good enough

Today I was speaking with a woman who, as a child psychologist and cognitive behavioral therapist who specializes in treating children with ADD and/or anxiety disorders (I'm not saying WHY I was speaking with her; you figure that out for yourself :-)). She's also expecting her first child. In the course of the conversation, I asked whether she experienced the phenomenon that my mother did when she was pregnant with me and my dad was in the midst of his pediatrics residency, i.e. thinking that all the weird cases you treat are disturbingly likely to end up manifesting in your own child (I would bang my head against walls! And be born with six fingers! And get leukemia before I turned three!).

Her answer surprised me a bit. "No," she said, "because after everyone I've seen, I've come to believe in what the research shows: all a child needs is one 'good enough' parent. Not a 'perfect' one. I don't know whether that will be me or my husband, or some of both of us, but between us, our child is sure to have a 'good enough' parent."

Wow! Can we all feel a little better about ourselves right now? If, like me, you've barked at a child this week or rushed them when you really wanted to let them take their time, or questioned whether you made the right disciplinary decision, or been just plain tired at the end of the day, you were probably still 'good enough.' Easily. Or your spouse, if you have one, was able to be that at a moment when you weren't.

And what's more, it occurs to me, the more we can define success for ourselves this way, the more we can do the same for our children, who desperately need some grace from us. Can we love them as 'good enough,' without expecting or even hoping for 'perfect'? It seems much more likely if we start with ourselves.

For me, today, 'good enough' meant, after some, shall we say, tense moments surrounding the getting-into-the-car ritual this morning, swinging by a charming pumpkin patch on our way home from co-op and letting the kids each pick out a specimen of their choosing. Ian, who rolled his to the car, called his "the pumpkin of my dreams!!!"

Look at me.

What do you notice about this photo? The camera doesn't quite capture the triumphant gleam in my eye, but ... LONG SLEEVES! Forgive me for obsessing about the weather, but fall comes so slowly to these parts, and I haven't worn a long-sleeved shirt since ... well, since our trip to Boston a couple weeks ago. Before that it was ... well, I'm thinking Bill Clinton may have been president the last time our elbows received coverage. But TODAY -- oh, the glory! -- after the much-needed rain of yesterday, we had a high of about 74 degrees. It was a day to sit out in the yard on a blanket, reading aloud and making butter in baby food jars.

No, seriously. We really did.

Look at him.

This is my little man coaching his sister on how to coast on her scooter. This is SO going on his "Good Deeds of the Week" list. (Meltdowns, noted at his suggestion with an "X," go on the other side of the paper. This week he met his goal of more-than-four Smiley Faces and fewer-than-four X's). Progress is, well, progress.

Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good!

What season is it, anyway?

Yesterday we made a somewhat ridiculous effort to channel the autumn spirit by brewing hot spiced cider and holding a "tea party" on the patio while I read to the kids from the Yellow Fairy Book. We may seem desperate, sitting around in our tank tops, but having the thermometer drop to the eighties is a fall event worth celebrating. And sometimes the autumn spirit requires a bit of imagination. We must restrain ourselves with difficulty from unpacking our long-sleeved garments from their extended hibernation, but golly gee whiz, we can drink that spiced cider.

But it really is the right kind of weather for this:


And this (locally grown, thanks to my friend Virginia's CSA box!):




And now, as I'm typing this, what's this I hear? Could it be the strange and thirsty music of RAIN outside my window? Or did a pig just fly by?

(Yes. It's really rain. Out go the Wild Ones to float leaves in the gutter.)

Isn't she lovely?

Just got these this morning from my brother Peter's June wedding:





This is the same snugglebug who has been practicing cartwheels nonstop since yesterday afternoon. She's trying to catch up to Nastia Liukin. We told her she's narrowed the gap ...

Highlights of the week

I've sure been slacking on my weekly reports of our homeschooling, and yes, I'm slacking all around on my record-keeping, spoiled as I am by living in the great state of Texas, which requires NOTHING of us, as far as written records. Must ... get ... back ... on ... track ...

I thought I'd share a few of our favorite things from this past week, rather than drone on about how we did this math lesson or that Latin review. So here goes:

1. Discovering a hilarious CD at the library called Beethoven's Wig: Sing Along Symphonies. Oh! The stitches! If you haven't heard this one, run, don't walk, to your local library or to Amazon for that matter, and check it out. It's full of zany, rhyming lyrics set to the music of Beethoven's symphonies, sonatas, etc.

2. Making twig weavings with the kids and their friend Isaac for our weekly science date. A few weeks ago, I reported some difficulty with getting the kids enthused about our science projects, so we took a break for a bit and just let the boys play. Lynn (Isaac's mom) helped me plant my fall garden -- sort of a Sisyphean attempt on my part to thumb my nose at our persistent drought. Anyway, I got this idea from the fabulous book Nature Smart, and OF COURSE the kids did not cleave to the directions, but they were happy with what they made and collected from around the yard, and that's the whole point.


3. Learning to play Made For Trade, a colonial-themed board game, with Ian and Tim last night. History! And Ian won, fair and square, so we didn't have any meltdowns to dampen the experience!

4. Reading more chapters of the delightful Johnny Texas on the San Antonio Road together, and watching Eliza burn through a Kumon phonics workbook I bought on clearance at Target. She's so pleased with herself, as if she'd been WAITING for me to buy her something like that. (Staving off guilt about shortchanging the middle child ...)

5. After kind of a tense, Mommy-needs-chocolate-NOW Friday afternoon, turning the car toward Mayfield Park instead of heading home, and spending an hour watching the peacocks, admiring the monarchs in the flower garden, and just doing everything sloooooowly. Until Caroline had an accident, stripped off her skirt, and started tearing around the place half-dressed. Then we left.

If you're new to reading my blog, you need to know that my weeks are not one long paper chain of blissful, harmonious, educational moments. We have our rough moments, our rough days, even. Blogging about the beauty we find, even hidden among the bumpier patches, is part of my coping strategy. Or should we call it gratitude therapy ...

Morning theology

Caroline: MOM! I can't find any long pipe cleaners! [you know, the chenille craft stems]
Me: Oh, honey, I think we're all out of those.
C: Maybe Jesus hid them. Can you tell Jesus not to do that?
M: [stifling a giggle] Love, Jesus doesn't do naughty things.
C: Oh. [very softly] He only does good things.
M: That's right. Only good things.
C: Maybe He needs His very own pipe cleaners. His OWN, OWN pipe cleaners.

I wonder if Jesus would use the 40%-off coupon at Hobby Lobby?


P.S. My cover article is out! If you're not in the Austin area, you can download the PDF from http://www.parentwiseaustin.com/. Forgive me for tooting my own horn. :-)

The bumps

This has been such a mundane week that there's hardly been anything worth sharing. All my mental blog posts just seem like false starts that peter out before I even sit down to write. I was tempted to toss off a few lines earlier today about how The Toddler had been an absolute mess this morning, a spewing bundle of frayed nerves, and how Her Sister had seized the baton as soon as the little one went down for a nap, as if they were bottling their tears for a weigh-in at the end of the day. Confession? The thought flashed through my head for the 432nd time, as I staggered around cleaning craft detritus and puzzle pieces off the floor, that perhaps I was not truly meant to be a full-time mother. But really, do my friends and family want to read about that? Not so much.

Then tonight Caroline fell asleep in my arms, warm and fluttery-eyed, her silent breaths alternating with heaving sighs, and she was just so beautiful it didn't seem right to put her down. How many more of these moments are measured out for me? Stop, I want to whisper into that rose petal of an ear. Slow down. I just brought you into this world yesterday. Not so fast.

Ian had a meltdown at his AWANA club tonight, and I'll spare you the details in the interest of our time and his privacy. He's been learning some coping skills to manage his intensity, which are starting to help, but we still had to have what he refers to as A Serious Talk at home. At first, he just wanted us to tell him what his consequence was. It was almost bizarre, since I hadn't even been thinking about "consequences" at that point. But before we launched into the S.T., I took some time to snuggle with him on the couch, until Tim, who witnessed the incident, was available. Like I've said, there are two parents in this house for a reason!

He wanted us to let him quit. This request normally throws me into a tailspin, caught between helping him persevere and not forcing something that he's not ready for. But tonight Tim and I both felt clear that to let him quit now would be to enable him to walk away from this hard thing, to back down and take the easy road. I reminded him of his last belt test, marked by moments of uncertainty during and the thrill of victory afterward. The test had been tough, had demanded his best, so that orange belt meant something. He hadn't kicked through playdough; he'd broken a wooden board with his foot. He hadn't coasted sloppily through his form; he'd brought all his power of concentration to bear on doing it RIGHT. Those moments in life, we told him, when your anger or worry or jealousy threaten to get the best of you, or someone else outperforms you, or you have to hear the word "no" when you want something badly, and it just seems SO HARD that you want to run and hide and quit -- those are your "belt tests."

I know of what I speak. I like things easy. I'd rather someone else clean up the craft leftovers off the floor. I could do without tantrums, dirty socks in the living room, and frantic needs for shirts in the right shade of pink. I'd rather my child accept defeat or delay gracefully like "all the other kids" and not create awkward moments with his hypersensitivity. I could do without the Serious Talk and just float from one parenting moment of sweetness and light to the next. No patience or wisdom required.

But want and need are two different things, no? And I need the belt test too. No bumps, no belt -- right?

A history lesson

So how often does this get to happen? You learn about a period in history, read books, color maps, etc. etc., and then get to go there. And people are dressed and working as they would have been then. I felt like Ms. Frizzle from the Magic Schoolbus. So serendipitous to have family living in Massachusetts!

Here are a few pics to tell the story of our trip to Plimoth Plantation last Friday (and I am happy to say that the Plantation IS handicap-accessible, and I like to get my dad out and about when we visit, so huzzah huzzah, the whole family went this time!).

The Mayflower! (A reproduction, of course)


A fearless sailor I brought on board.


Ian spent a long time sketching in his notebook.


Caroline and I outside the door of a Wampanoag hut. (Smoky inside!)


Real Wampanoag women, doing traditional cooking and beadwork. See the toddler? Interesting fact -- our generation of Wampanoags, of which there are two communities in MA, teaches their children to speak Wampanoag first, then English, in order to preserve their threatened culture.


Plimoth Village -- gotta love those thatched roofs. Going into the dark houses, though, and imagining spending a long winter cooped up inside for much of the day with only a smoky fire and a few candles for a light, all my little presentistic mind could think was, "Hello, seasonal affect disorder!"


Ian explaining to one of the "Pilgrims" (and yes, he made the quote marks with his fingers when referring to them later -- too funny) a new strategy for keeping his matchlock gun going. I love that the guy actually listened to him. Sort of like the security guard at Logan Airport this morning who managed to look appropriately concerned and even alarmed when Ian, compelled by the posted admonitions to "report suspicious activity," gravely mentioned to him about the "bald man SNEAKING behind a pillar outside." I'm nominating that guy for Security Guard of the Year. Must be a dad.


Our happy crew, minus my sister and her husband, who were photographing. Oh, and as a finishing touch, guess what Eliza chose from the gift shop as her souvenir?

A smooshed penny? A plastic Pilgrim doll? A stick of rock candy? No. A ball of yarn.

A beautiful, crimson ball of hand-spun woolen yarn.

Somehow that makes me love her even more, if that's possible.

And now she's teaching her siblings how to knit using one of these.

Happily Ever After

Yesterday one of my oldest friends in the wide world got married, and I had the privilege of helping send her off into wedded bliss. Rebecca and I met through church when I was maybe 12 or 13, and immediately felt the connection of fellow sensitive souls. As teenagers, we used to dream and giggle about The One and The Wedding, and since she was, and still is, something of a delicate flower, I always felt confident that in her case, The One would be ... well, just very special. She was older, but I still felt protective. And yes, it was tough on both of us when I met and married my One so early in life -- more than eleven years ago. Neither of us planned that our lives would diverge so dramatically. But when I arrived yesterday with my three offspring in tow, it felt like a happy ending, a reunion of sorts, with the assurance that the Lord may not always abide by our timing, but that His is perfect.



When I met her new husband yesterday, I had to let him know that not only had I been praying about him for many years, but also, I expected the best from him. I said it in a nice way. Honest.


And here's a funny thing about gathering with old friends at other old friends' weddings: suddenly, we're all reproducing! I mean, one day we were all playing street hockey in a parking lot and capping off the afternoon at Baskin-Robbins, and the next day -- so it seems -- we have babies in slings and toddlers on hips and older kids whom we're cautioning, so parentally, as they zoom merrily by in a crowded wagon, to "be careful!" When did we suddenly all become adults???

Silhouettes

A couple people asked me how we did the silhouettes, so I'll just post it here.
But first, look at these clowns at Logan Airport this afternoon, wearing sweatshirts for the first time since, oh, last February ...


So, here's how:
We used a dim room, where I tacked up white butcher paper on the wall. I set up a flashlight, aiming at the wall. The kids took turns sitting in the flashlight beam, and I used one hand to hold them still ("Hold STILL, honey!") and one hand to trace their profiles with a pencil. It took, maybe, three minutes. Then I taped the butcher paper to a big sheet of black construction paper, cut along the tracing, let the kids decorate the white ones (I hung the girls' embellished versions on the door of their room, as if they're looking at one another), and saved the black ones for mounting and framing.
Easy!
Next time I'll even get the eyelashes in the right place. But I think it really captures them, in my totally humble and unbiased opinion, you know?

P.S. I see that Sarah Palin, bless her heart, has been taking elocution lessons from President Bush. All together now: Nu-CLEAR!!!

Waiting for frames

Another colonial craft, which I am framing and keeping forever and ever amen. And maybe turning into an annual tradition. Because it totally captures them, except for where I got Eliza's eyelashes moved down the bridge of her nose. Plastic surgery, anyone?


Ian 8, Eliza 5, Caroline 2.75

And there is chocolate chip pumpkin bread in the oven ... Excuse me while I slither away.