And it's done!

Ok, remember that Goodwill puzzle I started (for $2.99) that promised "hours of fun"?

Well, what turned into kind of a nightmare (due to my obsession with completing it) ended up lasting approximately three weeks.

But, it's finally done! Thank goodness.  Time to move on with my life.

Unfortunately, this puzzle took EVEN LONGER than it should have.  Why?  Well, here's the completed puzzle:

Notice anything different about this puzzle?  Like maybe, SIX pieces missing??

Now, before you go blaming the Goodwill puzzle, here's a little story: at some point during the nightmare of this puzzle experience, I was working on it while my four-year-old dog lay at my feet.  (Note his age - he is no longer a puppy.)  My son walked in.  "What's Wizard chewing?" he asked.  

My heart stopped for a second, as I ascertained that my dog (NOT puppy) was indeed chewing something.  A moment later, a puzzle piece fell out of his mouth.  I found two pieces with bite marks on the floor that ended up in the completed puzzle.

But of course, that begged the question, did he eat any more?

Well, a day or two later I noticed what looked like a wad of gum on the floor:

Can you see the faint candy cane color on this chewed up piece?

I have to say, continuing the puzzle with no idea how many pieces it would ultimately end up with was pretty disheartening.  And whenever I would get really stuck looking for one in particular, I was always afraid I was spending thirty minutes (or more) trying to locate something that wasn't even there, which was very frustrating.

This happened multiple times.

Does this face look guilty to you?

I was really tempted to title this post "When your dog is a loser" or "Great Deal on free dog!" but I refrained.  After all, he IS very cute, and he does keep my lap very warm on cold days, even if he did cost me a half a day of my life trying to finish the dumb puzzle.

And one more note (for which I cannot blame the dog): in spite of my attempts to vigilantly check the floor for dropped pieces, after my son finished vacuuming yesterday, he announced that he found two more puzzle pieces underneath the table.

But I looked!

I guess I can only blame myself for those.

But like I said, when you know your dog's been dining on puzzle pieces, you don't really expect to find camouflaged, hidden pieces when they're missing.

The only problem now?  Well, Wizard destroyed my fantasy of donating this puzzle back to Goodwill.  When I was feeling suicidal over spending an entire day to insert fifteen pieces, the only thing that made me feel better was the thought of destroying some other innocent, "fun"-seeking person's life.

But I cannot donate a puzzle with four missing pieces in good conscience.  Alas, it's time for this nightmare to be recycled.

As for my son, he found it all very entertaining, and has been threatening to give me a puzzle that is only "blue sky pieces" for my birthday.  "Ha, ha, you'll never get it done," he loves to exclaim, rubbing his hands together with a look of utter happiness.  I was forced to make an announcement that I will never again open a present if I shake it and it sounds like a puzzle.

There seems to be no goodwill in his intentions, nor mine in formerly wishing to pass this puzzle to someone else.  As for the person who donated it to Goodwill before I bought it?  You got me!  Somewhere, someone is laughing at the sucker who bought it.  (Me.)

The House of Goodwill will now officially try to begin living up to it's name once more.

The only positive thing that came from this (other than getting it done)?  I really couldn't think of anyone I hated enough to give this puzzle to.  'Cause if I could, the only thing better than giving them this puzzle, would be giving them this puzzle with four pieces missing.

And not even I am mean enough to do that.

I guess that's good to know.

Some new Christmas finds for less than $50

Here's a belated Christmas post, since I've been a bit behind.

I have a lot of fun changing up my Christmas dinner table every year, as well as the decorations elsewhere, so here is what was new this year: (All from thrift stores, of course!)

I found these Norman Rockwell plates at a thrift store in New York last summer for a dollar or two each.  He's one of my favorite painters; his vintage American style is so out of style right now, I think it makes him appeal to me more.

I see these green juice glasses a lot at thrift stores; when I bought this one the lady behind the counter told me they used to come free in Oatmeal (?) canisters.

I thought it made a great little candle.

I always pick up pretty little saucers at Goodwill, because they're so cheap and perfect to put under candles or plants.

These were just a dollar or two each as well.

I see old Teleflora planters at Goodwill quite often.  After seeing this one a million times, I finally bought it as the price was right at $4.  (It has a pretty Charles Wysocki folk art design.)  I put a couple of $1.50 (Black Friday deal at Lowes) poinsettias in it and covered the dirt with a little moss from my yard.  It made a beautiful arrangement at a total cost of $7.

This little deer was $3, he joined my thrift store Christmas trees on the table.

I noticed the brass and glass menagerie in the center of the table is getting just a bit expansive.

I wavered a little before I bought this great candelabrum because it was just a bit more than what I usually pay for things at $20.  But I really wanted a new centerpiece for the table this year.

I hate forgetting to take "before" pics; when I bought this, the black parts were a tarnished metal, and the whole thing looked pretty dingy.

The other reason I bought it; I thought it would be a fun project.

And it was, for my son, who ended up painting it for me when I ran out of time.

I thought the black metallic paint would look elegant, so we unscrewed it, cleaned all the parts and painted it.

I love how it turned out!

I try to make the most of my dining room during the holidays; I love to use it and and my grandmother's silver, etc.  We invited some new friends over for dinner and the paint was dry just in time. 😉

How to waste your life (when you have a million things you NEED to do)

I have a little Christmas tradition that I enjoy, and do almost every year.  Inevitably, December is always a really busy month, full of lots of fun stuff, just busy.

So I really like December 26th.  Why?  The week leading to Christmas Day is always the busiest of all, and beginning December 26th, it is followed by absolutely nothing.  No more commitments, no more food to make or presents to wrap.  When I was a kid, I remember feeling sadness when Christmas Day was done.  As an adult, I absolutely love the quiet week between Christmas and New Year's.  There's always leftover food (so no cooking to do), the tree is still up, and once Santa comes there are usually new books to read.

So most years on December 26th I start a puzzle.  I love puzzles; they are one of the best ways to relax I can think of.  Listening to music and putting in puzzle pieces...it's a couple of days of peace.

I also never start a puzzle unless I have a little window of time to devote to it; Christmas week is perfect.

So when I went to pick out this year's puzzle, I took one from my shelf that I found at Goodwill a few years ago, but was saving for the right time.

Here it is:

Doesn't this look fun??

And it was only $2.99!

Here is my progress after day 1 (This is the first puzzle I've ever done, when after connecting the the frame, had no idea if the top was on the bottom, or vice versa):

I'm feeling stressed just looking at ALL those pieces now...

Here is my progress after maybe four or five days (the amount of time it usually takes me to COMPLETE a puzzle):

Ironically, I couldn't wait to start this puzzle.

"This will give me a fun couple of days," I said to myself.

So here is the progress after just over three weeks (note that I have worked on the puzzle ALL day, most days, with just a few breaks here and there):

Once I got the frame and giant candy cane done, there was absolutely nothing remarkable about the other (roughly) 700 pieces.

I averaged 15 pieces a day for the first week.

So this is where I'm at now.  And how's it going?  Well, I pretty much hate my life, hate myself and absolutely HATE the puzzle.  I'm obsessed with getting it done, and I chip away at it all day long.

I'm not working out, my house is not clean, and I should have been back at The House of Goodwill (to start work again) two weeks ago!  But no, I'm still trying to finish this ridiculous puzzle.  (I DO NOT want this half done on my table in March...)

At least I brush my teeth every day.  And walk my dogs.  But that's about it.

Meanwhile, the puzzle box sits on my table, mocking me:

Oh, so this is what I'm having?

So now you know why I haven't posted in a while...Though there is one other really good reason.  Our whole family tested positive for Covid right after Christmas.  So if there's a silver lining here at all, I really wasn't able to do much else anyway, and after a week of Covid and a week of quarantine following, I really couldn't have been doing much or gone anywhere anyway.  So I guess the timing was good...?

So I'm about to return to the table and start on the puzzle today, at least it's going a little faster now that I'm nearing the end.

I just CANNOT WAIT to get this thing done, so I can give it back to Goodwill and ruin someone else's life.

And since I forgot to mention it (due to the dumb puzzle), Happy New Year! 🙂🙄

Merry Christmas! Some Goodwill holiday joy 🌲

I found the cutest little basset hound Christmas ornament at Goodwill last year.  We are a house of basset lovers so I had to buy him. I found him in the closet a couple of weeks ago, and showed him to my husband.

The next morning, I noticed our nativity display looked just a little different:

It was the perfect spot!

Merry Christmas! 🎄 ✝️ 

A project of delayed gratification...

I spent twenty minutes yesterday on a project that I'm looking forward to enjoying a couple of months from now.  I bought some tulip bulbs in October that I meant to pot in November, but I had to go to Florida and things got a little hectic.  I forgot about the bulbs till I found them the other day...hopefully mid-December is not too late to plant tulips.

I guess I'll find out!

Actually, it's been so warm here this month that I'm kind of glad I waited.  I've got daffodils coming up all over my yard; I'm always afraid when things start blooming in December or January that they won't return in the spring.  But they usually do (as far as I can tell).  Do fewer bloom?  I'm not sure.

I decided not to plant the tulips in the ground this year, since I may be working at The House of Goodwill and not around to see them - I don't want to miss the results of my efforts!  Daffodils and tulips in the spring are something I look forward to every year.  Planting them in pots means I can transport them to wherever I am.

So here's what I did yesterday (prepare to be amazed):

Looks incredible, no?

I put the bulbs in plastic planters that I can put inside of prettier pots when they start blooming.  Or, if only some bloom and I get a some kind of weird result (always a possibility), I can just cut the ones that look good and bring them inside.

Here's what I planted:

Hoping these will look pretty together!

I've never planted the purple flowers on the left before.

Both of these are supposed to bloom in early spring, that's why I planted them together.

Hopefully the timing will work out well.  If not, cut flowers they will be!

These are both supposed to bloom in mid-Spring, so I planted them together.

There were a few extra chionodoxa bulbs, so I put them in a garden bed.  According to the package, they naturalize well, so we'll see what they do.

Here are a few pics from past years' containers that came out really pretty:

You can just see my planter of tulips in the foreground in this pic from last Easter.

I put them out in front of the house.

Here's one of my pots just starting to bloom.

This big container turned out beautifully.

I keep iris bulbs in it, but planted the tulips in between.

This picture was taken at the very beginning of the Covid outbreak in 2020 (hence the home gym on the back patio).  I had just happened to plant tulip bulbs all around the front and back yard that fall of 2019; when we were stuck at home for several months, the tulips blooming everywhere were a needed reminder of joy.

My final move?  I put the four tulip containers in my shed.  I made the mistake the first year I planted potted tulips of leaving the container on the front porch of the house, thinking that the sunlight would be good for them.  I came outside one morning in midwinter to discover that a neighborhood cat had decided a pot of dirt made a great bathroom, and had scratched the dirt out and all over the place.

After a little google search, I determined the bulbs would be fine in a shed or garage, as long as I bring them out when they start growing.

So they are now safely ensconced in the shed until spring.  $16 for 39 bulbs.  Not a bad deal at all.  The happiness they will bring?  At least $17 worth, I'm sure. 🙂

As long as no cats figure out how to break into my shed, I should be fine.

I'll keep you posted!

Witness to a Miracle

I've been thinking about today's post for a while now.  And while it's not about thrifting or antique store haunting it most definitely IS about goodwill - in the most goodwill-est sense possible.  So I want to take a rabbit trail today - and this post will probably be a bit long, I apologize in advance - but I believe when God does something wonderful for us we owe it to Him to share about it.

So I want to share about it now.  It's a story for me: for some time when my future self gets hit with doubts and struggle; because I will remember the time that God saw me, and I knew it.

I am a believer, but there are few times in my life when I would say that I knew that God spoke to me;  that I knew FOR SURE that God had spoken to me.  I'm often with other Christians who regularly say things like, "God told me this.." or "God told me that..." and it's not that I don't believe that God speaks to us, it's just that if I'm going to tell someone else that God spoke something, I want to be 110% sure that yes, God did speak.  And while I sometimes believe God is leading me a certain way, I hesitate to claim God has spoken, because I do believe it's a BIG thing to speak for God.  (And I suppose because I also could cite many, many times when believers have claimed God spoke something to them that He clearly had not.)

But this time I know.  And I've seen the miracle to prove it.

Let me rewind to the first week of October.  I was at The House of Goodwill, preparing to return to Nashville for three weeks of marketing work I had lined up.  On the night of Friday, October 22nd, I returned home from work to a phone call from my brother.  He said that my father had had a cardiac arrest that afternoon, that he had received CPR from a nurse at the retirement community where my parents live (who upon first arrival had said he was dead), and was rushed to the hospital.  Two of my brothers were already planning to go be with my mother.

It was shocking, and came seemingly out of nowhere.  I will note here that the cardiac arrest occurred three days after he received his third Covid vaccine booster.  (Please note that I am NOT saying that that was the cause, only that it is something worth considering - though I don't believe the cause of his heart attack will ever be determined.  One acknowledged side effect of the vax is blood clots, which are what cause heart attacks.  My dad had no prior history of heart problems, no family history of heart problems, did not have high blood pressure, and walked an hour a day.)  I will also note that I find it frustrating (if not downright terrifying) that the public is not allowed to even question a substance whose bodily injection is mandated by the government - when the manufacturer wants to keep hidden all collected data and research for the next seventy-six years.  (Or approximately when the vaccinated generation is dying out.)  But enough of that.

When my brother arrived at the hospital the next day, he let us know that my father was being placed in a hypothermic chamber for a couple of days.  (This lowers the body temperature in an attempt to save brain function after a cardiac arrest.)  When pressed, the doctor gave my dad a 10-20% chance of survival.  So it became a long weekend of waiting; it wasn't just a matter of my father's heart recovering, it was also a matter of the brain.  If his brain was gone, it wouldn't really matter if his heart worked or not.

It was a LONG weekend.

At this point, we were starting to hear from people.  Friends and family all over were praying for Dad.  That Sunday I stayed home from church and watched online.  It was interesting - every single song that morning had a resurrection theme, of the dead returning to life.  And in the middle of the worship there was a special prayer time for healing.  The sermon that morning was about the disciples in the boat with Jesus in the middle of the storm; the point being that with Jesus in the boat it doesn't matter what the outer circumstances are.

I felt like God had spoken though the service; I felt hope.

On Monday, my dad was in the ICU; his body back at room temperature.  He was intubated, and the doctor was waiting to see signs of life.  Aside from opening his unfocused eyes, there were none.  The doctor's plan was to keep watching him for 48 hours to see if we would wake up, if he hadn't, at that point (which would be Wednesday) they would run an MRI to confirm  brain damage.

According to the doctor, it was "very unlikely" that my dad would wake up, since he hadn't already.  And the doctor's sole concern was his brain.  It wasn't looking hopeful at all.

I went to bed Monday night with a heavy heart, and prayed long into the night.  I woke up very early Tuesday morning, and lay in bed for an hour praying till I finally decided to just get up.  "Please restore my father's brain function," was my constant prayer.

As I walked downstairs with my dogs, I glanced up at a digital picture frame we keep on a table at the bottom of the stairs.  There in the frame, was a photo of my dad.  Just my dad, sitting alone at a table.  He was wearing a t-shirt, and the words on the shirt read, "Sign of Intelligent Life."

Wait, what?

I don't know how to describe it, but it was as if the words were lasered into my brain.  There was my dad.  And the words "sign of intelligent life."  I froze, and stared at the photo till it disappeared.

Wait, what?

In the frame were about 600 photos from 2017.  It was a photo collection of everything our family did that year.  (Ok, so I've been a little busy and haven't gotten around to updating it.  But if I had...)  I didn't know that particular photo was in there, and I don't recall ever seeing it before that moment, despite the fact that I'd been seeing all the same photos for years.  That moment after I'd spent an hour praying for restoration of my father's brain function.

What was the chance I'd see that photo (of hundreds) at that moment?  What was the chance my dad even owned a shirt with the one message I needed to see?  What was the chance he'd be wearing it in one of the six pictures (of hundreds) that he was in in the frame?

Sign of Intelligent Life.

The image was seared in my brain, and I had the strongest feeling that it was a message from God.

The sign of intelligent life would be there.  Keep praying, was my message.

When my husband came downstairs, I told him what I'd seen.  "This has to be God," was his response.

But should I tell my mom?  My brothers had been texting that they were worried my mother was in denial about my dad's condition.  Should I give her encouragement?  I really believed that God was telling me He was going to heal my father.  But what if I was wrong?

Around midday I got a text from my brother that a doctor had squeezed my dad's hand and he "might" have squeezed back.  The doctor wasn't sure.  I decided to call my mom.  God was going to heal my dad; this I believed he told me.  "Keep the faith," I told her.

But as the day wore on, there were no more hopeful signs.  The doctor wasn't hopeful either.

If there was no damage to the brain, he should have "woken up" by now - this seemed to be the medical expectation.

Talk on the family text thread turned to end of life wishes, conversations about contacting my parents' lawyer, and encouragements to help my mom "be realistic."  I didn't engage; I couldn't.  There were no signs of hope.  There was only the message I believed God gave me, and it was feeling very hard to believe.

Wednesday was the same.  The cardiac arrest had happened on Friday, five days later (other than two possible hand squeezes) there were no signs of life. The tests had revealed 10-20% heart function.

It is hard to describe how long this week felt.

I went for a long walk in the afternoon.  "Why?"  I asked God, "when my dad is lacking brain function, would you give me what seems like an obvious sign of encouragement, if you are just going to let him die?"  It just seemed too cruel.  Either God was going to do a miracle, or He is truly unloving.  I just couldn't believe that.

"Keep the faith," I told my mom, though I was struggling myself.  "He's still here.  Until he's gone, pray for a miracle."

I went to bed Wednesday night with the heaviest heart yet.  I prayed long into the night again.  "God," I prayed, "if that photo was a sign from you, please let it be the first thing I see again when I walk downstairs in the morning."  Honestly, it was hard to pray that.  I just didn't want to be disappointed.  What were the chances I'd see the photo again?

The next morning, I got up, and headed downstairs.  I glanced at the digital photo frame.  It wasn't my dad.  It was just a vacation pic.  I waited.  Another vacation pic.

My heart sank.  Of course.  To see it again was asking too much.  So now what?  Was my seeing the photo the first time and taking as a sign from God just wrong?  If it wasn't, why didn't God show it to me again?  What was I supposed to think now?  Had it just been a coincidence?  I was so confused.

I started to pray my frustration.  "God, I don't know what to think now.  God, why did you show me that photo in the first place?  Was it even you that showed it to me, or did I just think it was?  Was I wrong to think you were going to heal my dad?"  All of these prayers poured out as I turned on the coffee pot and opened the back door to let my dogs out.

I was still praying as I opened the door to the garage to get the dog food.  As I swung open the door, out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of the digital frame.  And there it was again.  The picture of my dad.  Sitting in his t-shirt with the words, "Sign of Intelligent Life."  I ran to the frame and stared again.

Ok, so maybe it wasn't the first thing I saw that morning, per my request, but as I was raging my frustration to God, it showed up again.  So, technically it was the third photo I saw that morning.  (And just for the record, I have not seen the photo since, and now it's December.  I have seen it in the frame exactly twice that I am aware of, and it was at these two times.)

It was all that I needed.  God was going to heal my dad.  God was going to restore his brain function.  I felt peace.

Later that morning there was a video on the text thread.  It was my dad, still intubated, eyes still closed, and wired to a million machines, clearly squeezing my brother's hand on command and wiggling his toes when requested.  The sign of intelligent life.  It was definitely there.  "Keep the faith," I was able to confidently text my mom.

In the interest of not writing a novel here, I'll summarize what came next.  I finished my final week of work, then flew to Florida for fifteen days to accompany my mom to the hospital almost daily.  The first afternoon I was there, my father was finally extubated.  He suffered from severe ICU hallucinations, and he was very physically weak at first.  The day before I returned home, my father was finally transferred to the nursing home section of my parents' retirement community, still not strong enough to stand up on his own.

It was a very stressful period, and I have been amazed at my mother's strength.

My father's progress has been two steps forward, one step back.  But it's been continual.  As of now, he can stand up on his own and walk with a walker (though officially he's not "allowed" to do either due to his weakness, he still does).  My brother texted the other day that upon arrival to visit Dad, Dad informed him that he had done "50 laps between the door and the window" in his room with his walker because he was bored.  (Apparently whenever he is spotted in the hallway, he's sent back to bed by the staff, so he pretends he's forgotten they've told him to stay in his bed.)

In another small miracle (if there is such a thing), my father's vision was suddenly restored two days ago.  As he recovered from the cardiac arrest, we didn't realize how bad his vision was.  Before the heart attack, it was fine.  But afterward, it became clear that he couldn't see anything.  He was unable to read or watch tv.  Because of the hallucinations, the vision problem wasn't obvious.  But apparently it was frustrating him greatly.  Two days ago, my brother went to see him after lunch, and suddenly my father could see again.  He had read all the cards people had sent, and he was wanting to email.  Just like that, he could see again.  We don't know why.

Just yesterday my brother sent a photo of a little workstation my dad set up for himself in the nursing home with his computer.  Apparently, Dad couldn't sleep last night, so he got up at 2am and worked on writing until 4am, when he went back to bed.

I picked up my phone this evening, and there was an email from Dad:

I knew it was time for this post.

And I have never been so happy to receive an email in my life.

That my dad is still here, against all odds (and apparently back from death), is a miracle.  And to not only witness it, but to have God speak to me - to know that God saw me - is something I will forever hold in my heart.

God is working; God is moving; God is speaking.  The purpose of this post is purely to affirm that.

If there has been any positive to come from this crazy historic year, it's that it's caused me to recommit to prayer ministry.  Over the years I had gradually slipped away from the practice of group prayer, but the chaos of this world has truly brought me to my knees.  I have experienced the presence of God many times this year in prayer, and many of my sweetest memories of this year are times of prayer with others.

It was from my father that I learned the value of being involved in prayer ministry.  I would sometimes attend prayer meetings at our church with my dad, when I was a child.  He has been involved in prayer groups for as long as I can remember.  Apparently his work is not finished.

To all my friends and family who have been faithfully praying for my dad and me: I am SO grateful; you have embodied the spirit of Christmas to me.  I believe some day in Heaven it will be revealed to us the powers of our prayers on earth.

Not all resurrections happen at Easter.  They happen at Christmas too. ✝🎄 

A time for turkeys

So, as I've mentioned before, I've never been able to celebrate  the blended two-month holiday of Hallo-thanks-mas (as my husband calls it).  One reason?  Once the ghosts and jack-o-lanterns are put away, it's time for turkeys.  And over the years, my turkey collection has been slowly growing.  November is their season to shine!

Toward the end of October, my father had a heart attack, and instead of spending most of November working at The House of Goodwill, I ended up making a 15-day trip to Florida to spend time with my parents as my father began his recovery.

It was intense, as my dad was given just a 10-20% chance of survival at first, and almost every day for two weeks my mom and I were at the hospital.  But in the two week span I was there, he went from being intubated in the ICU to talking, eating and beginning physical therapy at the retirement community where my parents live.  It truly was miraculous, and we were extra thankful this Thanksgiving for all that God has done.

I arrived home a week before Thanksgiving, and honestly, I just wanted nothing more than a peaceful, quiet holiday like last year's.  We spent so much time coming and going this year - all enjoyable activities - but the three of us were ready for a stretch of relaxed time at home.

And it was.  There were no plans to do anything.  It was quiet and relaxing and wonderful.

A few new turkeys from my thrifting trips joined the flock this year:

I found this guy at an antiques store I loved (that I had just discovered) in Parsons, Tennessee.

It was going out of business, so he was on a 25% off sale.

(He was just over $20.)

He's actually a vintage Austin Nichols whiskey decanter.

Love him!

I found these never-opened turkey taper holders from Williams Sonoma at Goodwill for $2.

I picked up some taper candles half off at Hobby Lobby to use with them.

They were part of the centerpiece this year with another thrift store candle holder.

Simple, peaceful, quiet, yes!

Saturday after Thanksgiving I drove an hour to one my favorite small towns for antiquing.  I discovered another one of my favorite places is going out of business; I was glad I made it there one last time.

Among a couple of small things I bought, I found this new new turkey:

So, he's my third turkey platter (I guess I have a collection), but I really liked the colors.  I didn't have a blue one, so he'll go in my bedroom next year.

I paid the big $ for him - $25.

Love him!

And just to prove that I DO have a little self control, I limited myself to only one new turkey, even though there were quite a few great ones.  Here are a couple I did NOT buy:

This platter was smaller and more expensive, but I loved the design.

I've never seen this one before.

Isn't this vintage planter GREAT??

When I showed the pic to my husband, his response was, "Why didn't you buy it?"

Not what I was expecting, but then I started asking myself the same question...

And one last share from the shop, something else I did not buy but just love:

I'm a little obsessed with old transferware.  This Johnson Brothers pattern, "Historical America" has different historical pics on each dish.  These plates are called "Frozen up - Thanksgiving."

See the little turkey at the bottom?

The colors are just so rich and beautiful.

I think I'm going to need a bigger dining room. 🙄

And one more random Thanksgiving share:

Have you ever gone somewhere for dinner and found yourself accidentally dressed the same as the visiting dog?

We went to dinner at my sister-in-law's before the holiday, and Willie (the visiting dog from Georgia) and I just happened to be wearing the exact same sweater.

Really!

Apparently, Willie found his in Oregon and mine was bought in Canada, but as we can see, great taste knows no boundaries.

It was truly an honor to be dressed as well as this dog.

So, to return to the topic at hand, Hallo-thanks-mas, we can now see why this new uni-holiday just won't fly in my house.  (Much like a turkey, but I digress...)

It goes like this (and will ALWAYS go like this): Ghosts, turkeys, Christmas trees.  In that order.

Amen.