The "bleeping" Family Christmas Tree

I had to edit Mike's title for reasons that will become appartent as you continue reading. . .

Have you ever seen National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation? In the beginning, the family is going out in search of the "Griswold Family Christmas Tree". When they find it, the son, Russ, makes a comment about it being too big for their yard. To which Clark replies, "It's not going in our yard, Russ, it's going in our living room."

If you can, picture how large that tree was. Then you will come close to picturing our first Christmas Tree. . .

Yes, you read correctly. I said "first", implying that there was (and is) a second.

It started innocently enough. My dad was visiting, and we thought (wisely) that we should go and search for a Christmas Tree. We set out for the tree farm we went to last year, where we had found a beautiful 10 foot tree. Mike believed last year's tree was originally 12 feet tall and, after cutting and trimming, ended up being slightly over 10 feet tall. So, we looked for a tree that was 10-12 feet in height.

The problem with such a big tree is that the local tree farms don't grow trees this tall. They bring them in from other parts of the country (Maine, New Hampshire, North Carolina, etc.) Because the trees are so large, they don't fit through most balers. So, the trees come to the local farm, already cut and bound. And, if you are determined enough to insist on cutting it open before purchasing, you are going to have a hellacious time getting it home and into your house.

We found a tree that was labeled 10-12 feet. It looked symmetrical (granted, I was looking at it bound) and full. My gut said "This is the tree". Nothing could dissuade me. So, we paid $120, and Mike, my dad, and three large men hauled it on to the top of our car.

You might have thought I would have reconsidered taking the tree when I saw it on top of Rocket. Especially when I realized that the bound tree was wider than the windows were tall, and equal in length to the SUV. But, I was certain it was going to be a beautiful tree. And, since Mike was certain the length was equal to what we bought last year, I didn't think twice.Then we got home. The first fiasco: getting the tree into the house. Mike had the brilliant idea that we should put the tree in the stand outside, eliminating the hassle of placing it in the stand. All we had to do was carry it in and stand it upright. Unfortunately, Mike and my dad alone were no match for the tree. Luckily, our neighbor Mike was outside raking leaves, and kindly agreed to help.

The second fiasco: We got the tree inside, only to determine it was too tall. Since we scraped the paint along some of the walls, and had a mess of needles everywhere, Mike wisely decided to cut the tree down inside. Hell, we already had a mess to clean up, a little more wouldn't kill us.

The third fiasco: Upon standing the tree up the SECOND TIME, we broke the wrought iron tree stand. Okay, broke may be a slight exaggeration. Bent into a new, non-level shape would be more accurate.

Some may have taken this as a sign to quit now. After all, the tree was still bound. We could have taken it back out of the house to the tree farm and returned it for a smaller tree. BUT NOT US. NO, we just paid $120 for what would certainly be a beautiful tree. So, after a quick trip to Home Depot for some new tree stands (I bought two different kinds rated for 10 foot tall trees), we tried again.

The fourth fiasco: The tree was standing up in the malformed stand. However, lifting and maneuvering the tree into the new stand was far from successful. The tree fell over, scraping the paint off one wall, the ceiling, and almost knocking down a few diplomas before landing on the TV.

Eventually, we succeeded in getting the tree up. Here is what it looked like:That picture was taken around 3:00pm, about four hours after we got home with the tree. The tree was much larger than we could ever have imagined. While it didn't break windows when we cut it open, it did completely obscure the fireplace, requiring us to move the stockings (which were hung by the chimney with care) to the half-wall between the kitchen and family room. Also, you could no longer view the TV from the recliner, forcing Mike to give up his favorite chair if he wanted to watch TV.

So, what happened to make us give up such a beautiful tree, hours after we finally succeeded in getting it into the house? Shortly after 7pm, the tree fell down. AGAIN. It knocked down everything on or near the fireplace, scraping a rainbow into the paint above the fireplace, spilling two and a half gallons of hot, sappy water onto the carpet before landing in the vacated recliner.

At this point, one look between us decided that the tree needed to go. Mike had determined that the tree was actually 14 feet tall to start, not the 10-12 feet that was listed. After removing the two feet that we already cut off, the tree was STILL two big. And, none of us wanted to be bothered with the extra effort of cutting it down, only to risk the possibility of a having it fall a third time. Not to mention, a more adequate tree stand would cost at least $100 and would need to be special ordered. We wisely decided to cut our losses and dispose of the tree.

The fifth (and FINAL) fiasco: The tree was no longer bound. And, because it was no longer bound, it didn't fit through any of the doors. Mike pulled out the saw and tree pruning sheers and decimated the tree. Eventually, it was small enough to pull through the door, and throw into the back yard.After hours of sweeping, vacuuming (with a wet/dry shop vac AND a conventional vacuum), along with a few coats of paint to touch up the ceiling and some elbow grease on the walls, the house looks respectable. We bravely ventured out again this morning, and happily shelled out $55 for a new Christmas Tree. It is definitely not as large as the first (which in this case isn't a bad thing). It stands about 9 feet tall in the stand, and looks minuscule compared to the beast from yesterday. But, it took no more than 15 minutes to cut, move into the house, place in stand, remove binding, and water.To view ALL the pictures of our Christmas tree experience, click here to view a slideshow.

One day, hopefully in the near future, we will look back at this and laugh. In the interim, we can be thankful that the first tree collapsed while we were awake to react, and while my dad was still here to help us remove it. And, unlike the movie, we didn't burn the house down.

Happy Holidays.

Love, The Trahans

Thanksgiving

Unfortunately, Nibbles and I were recently advised not to travel. Which meant our Thanksgiving was restricted to being close to home. To be honest, I still get very motion sick when driving, a fact that was proved out on Thursday in our attempts to visit Mike's family for Thanksgiving. Even though we only went 45 minutes away, the combination of foods and motion were not pleasant. So, it was probably a good thing that we didn't attempt to drive to Pennsylvania.

Our Thanksgiving started on Wednesday, with a feast at Mikie's preschool. Nibbles and I were invited to eat lunch with Mikie, his friends and their parents. This was quite an experience. I come from a large family, and have fond memories of the "kids table". At some point, you get to an age where you would rather be promoted to the "adult table" because you no longer enjoy making "concoctions" by mixing random things into your drink and laughing. In my family, even though you were old enough, you may have been stuck at the "kids table" because there simply wasn't space. Let's just say I had some flash backs of being the big kid at the "kids table". . . When I arrived, I was the first adult at Mikie's table. Which meant I had EIGHT four year olds all to myself. If that isn't good birth control, I don't know what is. . . EIGHT children talking at me all at once. . . Some kids upset and crying because their parents couldn't come. . . Some kids trying to cut things with their plastic butter knives. . . One kid hitting me repeatedly in the behind with his "turkey" (they stuffed plastic gloves with popcorn and colored paper to make turkey centerpieces). Topics of conversation included: Mikie's love of worms and all outdoor creatures (which many of the other boys find funny). . . What are mashed potatoes made from (one girl thought they were made from bananas). At some point, one kid even asked me what was in my stomach. While I was tempted to say "the last kid who hit me with a turkey", I refrained and informed him that it was a baby. In spite of the fact that many of them have siblings, this answer prompted a number of weird looks.

Eventually, more adults showed up at our table and we had a nice lunch of turkey cold cuts, home made mashed potatoes, stuffing, corn, and tasty desserts. Nibbles and I took the "practical" (i.e. lazy) approach and brought dinner rolls (which I can't even take credit for purchasing. . . Mike went to the store for me). Thankfully, the rolls were a hit with the kids, many of whom did not want to eat any of the other foods.

My parenting skills were also questioned when Mikie fell while running around the table. When I asked him "what happened", he answered "I fell". This struck me as hysterically funny (evidently, two cups of Hi-C went straight to my head), and I started laughing while trying to console him. Mikie's teacher, Ms. Kelly, came over and politely informed me that "You're not supposed to laugh when he's hurt."

All told, we had a good time. On Thursday, we went to Mike's Auntie Nancy's to celebrate Thanksgiving with his dad's family. As soon as we finished eating, we jumped in a car and headed to Mike's Auntie Cyndy's to celebrate Thanksgiving again with his mom's family. Between all the food, driving, commotion and shear exhaustion of being pregnant, Nibbles and I fell asleep on the couch by 7:30. And, not even Mikie and Arcangelo's raucous yelps could wake me. Hope you all had a Happy Thanksgiving.

Love, The Trahans

Trouble

To anyone who wonders why we affectionately call our son "Trouble", this post should explain everything.

While Mike and I were sorting through baby clothes and starting to prep the nursery for paint, Mikie was playing nicely in the family room. Or so we thought. . .

I came downstairs every 30 minutes or so to check on him (make sure he hadn't used his sharpie marker on the walls, see if he needed a snack, etc.). After lunch, I finished putting away all the clothes and jumped in the shower, leaving Mike to check on our child. I hadn't gotten out of the shower, before Mike was screaming for me to hurry downstairs and see what our son had done. When I arrived, Mikie was sitting innocently in the family room, bouncing on my yoga ball and watching Alvin and the Chipmunks. I asked Mike what the big deal was, when he pointed at the kitchen table:Evidently, after finishing his lunch, Mikie decided to help himself to a snack. He grabbed his step stool from the bathroom, unlocked the pantry doors, opened them up, and, instead of reaching for his Halloween candy, he helped himself to my stash of Reese's Peanut Butter cups. FIVE REESE'S CUPS!!!! And, his plan would have worked without mom and dad ever knowing, if only he got rid of the wrappers.

The tummy ache he had later that day made him regret his binge. So, I don't think he will help himself to more anytime soon. Hopefully.

Love, The Trahans

What a Mess

This post could also be titled "How Many Clothes Does One Kid Need?" But, that seemed too long. . .

Last Saturday, I felt ambitious, and decided to tackle sorting through Mikie's clothes. We have kept most of Mikie's clothes since birth. I think we did it because we figured we had a 50/50 chance of having another boy. And, since he had a lot of really nice clothes that were never even worn (wrong size or season), it seemed a shame to get rid of anything. Now that we know we are having a girl, I decided to cull through everything, looking for "unisex" outfits, and sorting everything else by size in preparation for donating things or having a yard sale.

This was a HUGE undertaking. I had been vacuum sealing everything into Space Bags, so it didn't look like that much stuff. Unfortunately, I never sorted it before bagging it, so there were 2T clothes mixed in with clothes ranging from 0 months to 18 months.

Here is a picture of the chaos:By late afternoon, everything was sorted and put away. And, Nibbles ended up with a laundry basket of onesies, sleep sacs, and a handful of sleepers in white, yellow, or sage.

Now that she has some clothes to wear, all we need to do is finish (or at least start) putting together a room for her to sleep in.

Love, The Trahans

Update

So, we've had a busy week. And, in my world, busy leads to exhaustion (evidenced by pregnant Lauren sleeping on the couch before 8pm). And, sleeping leaves little time for blogging (hence the big lull in posts.)

Unfortunately, busy also seems to lead to swelling, shortness of breathe, and elevated blood pressure. All of which leads to a trip to the maternity ward to make sure that Nibbles and I are okay. Let's just say that last minute trips to the hospital aren't exactly convenient. Since Mikie and I (and obviously Nibbles) spend our days in Connecticut. . . and the hospital is an hour away in Massachusetts. . . and Mike is another hour plus away near Boston. . . it makes it very difficult to coordinate an impromptu visit to the maternity ward. Thankfully, Mikie is good friend's with a colleague's son. And, that colleague's wife is home during the day, and willing to pick up Mikie when I can't. So, Nibbles and I cleared our schedule, arranged for Mikie to go to Connor's house, made a quick stop at the Employee store (it was Friday of Employee Appreciation Week), and headed off to the hospital.

After an hour's drive, and three-hours of tests and monitoring, we were released. In spite of the fact that I am swollen (a lot), I don't have pre-eclampsia or pregnancy induced hypertension. I was complemented for having the best veins they lab tech has seen on a red-head. And, Nibbles was praised for being "a good baby." I don't know if the nurses were being sarcastic or were truly impressed with her activity level. Because, she did NOT want to sit still long enough to be monitored. In fact, she moved around SO much, that she kept setting off the alarm on the fetal monitor. I gave her credit for cheering me up and making me laugh, since she seemed bound and determined to kick the fetal monitor off her "house". But, we might have gotten out of there faster if she would have staying in one place for 20 minutes consecutively. . .

When we left the hospital, we headed back to Connecticut to pick up Trouble. Evidently, Trouble was having a lot of fun at Connor's, and was invited to spend the night. So, we added some extra mileage on the car, only to head back home and rest. In hindsight, it was a good thing, because Nibbles and I needed the rest. However, this was the first time ever Mikie slept over some one's house without Mike or I being there (or at least Grandma Pookie). And, being an emotionally exhausted, hormonal mother, I was a basket case over the fact that my four year old was growing up and didn't need me. For all the trouble he causes, he is a good kid, and we're lucky to have him.

Which brings us to today. . . Mike went to rendezvous with Mikie at Home Depot, and pick up paint to paint the nursery. And, Nibbles and I are resting on the couch with our feet up (something we need to do more of).

Enough boring health news, on to the funny posts.

Love, The Trahans

Election Results

Unless you are living under a rock (pardon the pun if you just read Politics and Preschool), I don't need to tell you who won the Presidential election yesterday. However, equally as anticipated are the results of the "Name Baby Trahan" election. . .

In addition to the poll on the blog, someone at work labeled the wipe-out board outside my office with "Name Lauren's Baby" and started brainstorming suggestions. This produced a plethora of names, some good, and some atrocious. After a week, I pared down the names significantly and we began voting amongst the remaining names. It stunned many that we were so desperate, we would resort to soliciting names from others. Yet, everyone continued to stop by and comment, providing endless entertainment for all. My office wipe-off board was like the water-cooler in a SNL skit. Although, instead of calling the baby "Stevemeister", we got names like "Sadie", "Evelyn" (from the truly brainwashed, I mean DEDICATED employee), and Cliffette (from one of our VPs, Cliff), just to name a few of the really awful suggestions.

So onto the winners. Each vote was counted once (in spite of my threat to let people I liked stuff the ballot for a great name). Each write-in was counted as one vote. If multiple people wrote in the same name, that name got multiple votes. And, Mike and I refrained from voting (since I have the ultimate veto, it didn't really matter how we voted).

To keep it simple, I am only including results for names that received more than one vote. So, Maisie, Fallyn, Zoe, Michaela, etc. all failed to make the cut.

And the results are:

Molly - 3 votes
Olivia - 3 votes
Emily - 4 votes
Cassandra (Cassie) - 5 votes
Madison - 7 votes
Emma - 8 votes
Rebecca (Becca) - 10 votes
Keira - 11 votes

Sadly, as much as I love the name "Emma Reilly Trahan" (especially when you yell it, which Mikie finds amusing), Mike is violently opposed to it. He doesn't have a good reason, he just hates it. And, Olivia, Emily, and Madison seem to be too popular (Mikie has two Olivia's in his class). This narrows it down to Molly, Cassandra, Rebecca, and Keira.

Which brings us to Indecision 2008. . . Ever the planner, Mike thinks we should just PICK A NAME. I think we should wait until she is born and THEN pick the final name. Because, in my head, Rebecca has brown or "raven-colored hair" (I know, I should have read less as a child). So, if the baby is a red-head, she can't be "Rebecca". But she could be a "Molly", since Molly has red hair. Keira could be red or blonde/light brown. And, I haven't decided what Cassandra looks like, although I knew two Cassandra's in high school, both of whom had brown hair.

So stay tuned. Hopefully by the time she arrives, Nibbles will have a real name.

Love, The Trahans

Politics at Preschool

Mikie is having quite the political education this month. He is going to learn the Pledge of Allegiance at school this month. And, yesterday morning, we took him to vote, explaining that we were picking a new president, who is like the boss of the whole United States. He didn't seem to understand why so many people were standing in line outside in the cold, but was pacified by the fact that we would get a sticker. Incidentally, our town did NOT give out stickers (I asked). Luckily, Connecticut was liberal with their stickers, and a colleague gave me one of his.

Evidently, we weren't the only parents giving our child a civics lesson. Last night, while putting Mikie to bed, Mikie told Mike about his day at school. I wasn't there, but from what Mike told me, the conversation went something like this:

Mikie: "My friend, Kadin, wrote a letter to The Rock Obama at school today."

Mike: "I think you mean, Barack Obama. Why did Kadin write him a letter?"

Mikie: "Kadin's mom and dad really like The Rock." (we're assuming they really like Obama, and not Dwayne Johnson).

Mike: "Mom and Dad really like him too. That's why we voted for him to be the boss of the United States."

Mikie: "I don't like him."

Mike: "Why?"

Mikie: "Because his house has holes in the floor that mousies fall into."

Mike: "Well, who would you want to be the boss of the United States?"

Mikie: "I would vote for my friend, Kadin. He's always nice to me."

And this is why the legal voting age is 18, and not 4. Because, if Mikie were voting, all you would need to do is "be nice to him" (which usually entails candy, or a "surprise", or even just a sticker) or have a special place in your heart for mice and other furry creatures that most people do not consider "pets".

On a side note, I sincerely hope that The Rock Obama's house does not have holes in the floor, or mice for that matter. Since his new house is the White House, I would hope some of my tax dollars can afford to pay for termite and pest control. . .

Love, The Trahans

Left Brained

I recently went through team building training at work where we looked at our different behavioral styles and how our different styles affect our ability to interact. It was very interesting. There were four main styles: controlling, analytical, supporting, and promoting. I learned that I have a controlling behavioral style, which I renamed "driven" because it sounds more positive (I mean, all the other styles sound nice. . . who wants to say "I'm controlling" when you can say "I'm supportive"?) Sadly, I was told my desire to rename my behavioral style only further proved how controlling I am. . .

How does this relate to my child? Well, on the heels of this training, I have become more cognizant of other people's habits so that I can better understand their behavioral styles. In the process, I've learned how left-brained my child is. Over the four years of his life, I've tried desperately not to pigeon hole him. Unlike Mike, I didn't want to force our engineering tendencies on him, allowing him to choose his own path. I noticed all the "right-brained" things he does: his love of reading and music, he vivid imagination, etc. But, lately, I've realized that there are some glaringly "left-brained" tendencies in Mikie's personality.

1. Mikie recently brought the following picture home from school. Now, Mikie does not like to draw or color when he is at home. So, I make a big deal over everything he draws at school, hoping it will encourage him to color more. When I asked him what this drawing was a picture of, he told me "It's patterns, Mom." You can't argue it, it is definitely patterns. I just don't know too many kids who, when given the freedom to draw a picture, voluntarily draw "patterns".

2. Mikie's new favorite activity: mazes. And, I have to say, he is really good at mazes. It is the only thing he likes on the kid's menu at restaurants. If there isn't a maze on the menu, he wants us to DRAW him a maze so he has one to complete. So, I bought him a book of mazes. I figured it would help him hone his pencil holding abilities (since he doesn't like to sit and color or practice his letters). Every morning, and every evening, Mikie sits down at his kid sized desk, turns on the lamp, pulls out a sharpie (not even pencil) and completes between 2 and 4 mazes.
3. He has become VERY literal. On Halloween night, as people came up to him and said "Hey look, it's Scooby Doo!", Mikie answered matter-of-factly "It's just a costume."

Obviously, Mike and I think there are worse things than to be "left-brained". And, with two parents who are engineers, I shouldn't be surprised. I just didn't think I would see evidence of it at age 4.

Love, The Trahans

Santa

You can tell Christmas is fast approaching, because the toy catalogs are arriving fast and furiously. Between the catalogs and the commercials, Mikie's Christmas list is growing at an unbelievable speed. Thankfully, he's not completely selfish. . . he's also making note of any "girl toys" that we should buy for Nibbles. What qualifies a toy as a "girl toy" you ask? Girls playing with the toy in the advertisement, or girl colors (pink or purple).

Hot on his list, a new castle, complete with trap door and secret passages. The problem, Santa brought Mikie a very nice castle LAST year for Christmas.And, no kid needs two castles. Especially not when last year's castle cost me, I mean SANTA, $100 after shipping and the new castle was another $100.

My initial thought was to try and "Pimp My Castle" by painting it and begging Mike to make some sort of trap door for it. And then reality set in. We haven't even begun decorating a nursery. When do I think we will find time to modify last year's castle and do so without our always-under-foot child noticing?

Luckily, the Toys 'R Us Big Toy Book showed up around the same time that I had my reality check. And, low and behold, Toys 'R Us has a very similar looking wooden castle on sale for $79.99.So began my web of deception. I sold the existing castle on Craig's list for $50, reducing my cost of the new castle to $30. And, to explain why it was going away, I told Mikie that Santa knew he wanted a new castle, but didn't think he needed TWO castles. So, Santa was willing to bring him the new castle at Christmas IF Mikie was a good boy AND he gave Santa back the old castle so Santa could give it to another kid who didn't have a castle. While the initial thought of parting with any of his stuff upset him, he gave in when he looked at the picture of the new castle again.

Last night, Santa came and packed up the castle to take it back to the North Pole. And, Mikie is still okay with the trade today.

Now, the only problem is that Santa needs to find a store with the new castle in stock. Otherwise, I am going to have a lot of explaining to do on Christmas morning.

The measures we go to for the children we love. . . I just hope he forgives me in a few years when he realizes Santa isn't real.

Love, The Trahans

GOAL!!!

The final soccer practice came. And, similar to last week, they broke up the kids into group to have scrimmages. Last week, Mikie and I had gone to practice alone, so I was the only person to witness his first goal. It didn't matter, because he was on fire this week. During warm-ups, he had a run in with the assistant coach's son, who was playing goalie. Mikie took a nasty fall in the dirt as they both clamored after the ball. It was so bad, he told me he wasn't going to live. After I pointed out there would be no one to help me eat the brownies we made, he quickly rebounded.

During the scrimmage, Mikie scored three goals for his team. Even more impressive, he never forgot which goal he was going towards. He ran in hot pursuit of the ball, turning it back to his own goal when he overtook the other team. If the entire team hadn't clustered in the crease (or whatever you call the area in front of the goal in soccer), he would have scored more. Similar to last week, he felt the need to run off the field and high-five us after each goal. We had to remind him that the game was still in progress, but it was great to see him so excited.

At the end of the scrimmage, the coach had the kids line-up to shoot goals, so that every kid had a chance to feel like a winner (hearkening back to the #1's on each kids jersey). Mikie was second through the rotation. After he scored, the coach told the kids to stand "over there" (motioning to the back half of their mini playing field) while the other kids had a turn. After a few minutes of us wondering where Mikie was, we realized he ran onto the other soccer field where the middle school girls were playing a game. Luckily, Mike ran after him before he got squashed.

After an hour of play, the kids lined up for their "awards ceremony". Each kid was called by name to receive a trophy. Amazingly, Mikie and his friend Erin waited patiently until they received their trophies (Trahan and Wiehn both falling at the end of the alphabet, we had a LOT of other kids to cheer for). Then, they proudly showed off their awards, and devoured junk food. Sign-ups for Spring are open now. And, in spite of the few practices we missed, Mikie seemed to enjoy himself enough that he wants to keep playing. After hockey is done, of course. So, unfortunately for me, it looks like my life as a soccer mom is not at an end yet.

At least all these sports wear him out. I wonder if we can sign Nibbles up for Spring soccer too. . .

Love, The Trahans

Halloween (or Thanksgiving)

My mom wanted to surprise Mikie by coming up to visit him for Halloween. This made his day, since he'd been wanting to go to Pennsylvania (which, my nausea has prohibited), and since he wasn't expecting to see her until Christmas. . .

We surprised Mikie at school and came home early to get ready for Trick-or-Treating. Mike and Mikie went as Shaggy and Scooby Doo. And, since I had a last minute brainstorm to dress Nibbles as a pumpkin (why not, I look like one anyway), my mom was able to wear the Winnie-the-Pooh costume.

Mike and Pookie escorted Mikie went to a dozen houses, helping himself to as much candy as he could. I literally had to push him away, yelling "go trick-or-treat somewhere else!" as he took fistfuls of candy from my bowl as I fed other trick-or-treaters. (Nice mother, I know). Mike was disappointed because most of the neighbors didn't get that he was supposed to be Shaggy (the wig does look more "Dumb and Dumber" than Shaggy). We completely ran out of candy, leaving poor Nibbles and I with none (we will have to stock up at the after Halloween sales). By 9pm, we all crashed. Mike from a long week of work. . . Pookie from a long day of travel. . . Mikie from an all day sugar high (we noticed that he didn't eat any of his lunch). . . and I from the perpetual exhaustion that ails me all the time lately. The only one who seemed full of energy was Nibbles.

The next day, since we aren't going to see Pookie again until Christmas, we had a lovely Thanksgiving feast: roast turkey, mashed potatoes (made from scratch) and gravy, stuffing, apple cider. Granted, with the exception of the potatoes, everything else was thanks to Banquet, Boston Market, and Stoffers. It's the thought that counts, right? Of course, I committed a mortal sin in Mike's world. . . I forgot to buy and make dinner rolls. And, everyone knows Mike doesn't truly consider it Thanksgiving without bread products. That, and I forgot to make the apple pie for desert. But, no one else remembered either, so I am free from blame.

Happy Halloween (and Thanksgiving)!

Love, The Trahan