It was Thanksgiving here this past weekend, and that means that I spent the weekend doing two things I like a lot that scrambled my life so large that I didn’t stagger back to the blog until now. I hung with my family, I cooked, and cooked and cooked, and we got together three times in three different places and incarnations and I have these pictures to show for it.

Photo credits for a couple of these to Katie.  Thanks Kate!

First, Yes. Hank’s hair is pink – and we think it’s great. Crazy hair is a great temporary way to express yourself and be a rebel without accidentally setting anything on fire or getting to know the local piercing guy really well.  Also, yes, I know little Luis figures largely in those pictures, but it’s his first Thanksgiving and I think it’s clear the whole family is totally and completely in love with him to a ridiculous and competitive degree.  Kate and Carlos walk through the door and it starts. Erin has him, Amanda wants him, his Nana and Grampa seem to think he has some kind of stake… my mum claims experience, and sees to feel that gives her rights, Megan and Samantha cruise around waiting to play peekaboo or score points and Ken just lurks nearby.  He relies on stealth.  At the end of the day, we can all agree on two things.  Lou is the best kid ever, and Erin’s a serious baby hog.  (That’s right.  I said it. We were all thinking it, and now it’s out in the open.  Baby. Hog.)  We’re going to have to arrange extra babies for Christmas or this is going to get ugly.

We got through the holiday with a minimum of drama and a maximum of fun, and all the food was great, with the exception of whatever the hell my mum really did to that pot to fill the whole house with that weird smoke… but that’s a pretty good year for this family.  It was really, really good, and as though it totally got the memo, the weather turned and was a perfect fall weekend.  As it got colder (2 degrees, but we did not turn on the heat – I think Erin and I are the only two playing furnace wars this year.. )  I realized that it’s Rhinebeck time, and that means it’s Rhinebeck sweater time… and then I put it out of my head for being crazy.  "Rhinebeck is only twelve days away" I told myself, and I decided against it – because I’m a mature and reasonable knitter like that.  Last night when there were eleven days before Rhinebeck I thought it over again – and almost fell for it.  This morning, I think I might have given up and decided to knit a sweater for Rhinebeck.  I mean, Why not wait to make that decision until there are ten days left? 

It’s 10:30 am as I write this.  I’ve got some yarn out from the cupboard, and I might have narrowed this down…

A sweater in 10 days?  Maybe.