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There are three hours left in November so I can totally get away with this

Lots of people feel like Thanksgiving weekend is a good time to pull out the Christmas tree and start listening to carols on the radio. Not me. As long as I’m still eating turkey leftovers, it’s Thanksgiving season. I can’t get into the Christmas spirit until the first of December at least. With that in mind, and because so many of you requested it*, I present you with a story of Thanksgiving, as told by the Sylvanians.

*No one requested it.

pilgrim home

It is November, 1621. A friendly Native American family approaches the home of some wary Pilgrims.

Pilgrims are wary

The Pilgrims are incredibly wary. Those natives are awfully intimidating.

keep the children indoors

“Keep the children indoors! Away from those frightening savages.” Mama Thistlethorne whispers loudly. Nevermind it was those very people she called savages who gifted her with the nice rug for her floors, all the food laid out, and the lovely hand-carved totems that guard her door.

babe on back

What is it the Native Americans bring to the wary Pilgrims? Another blanket! And some pretty necklaces for the ladies. Those savages aren’t so savage after all! (They should be though, considering the gifts of infectious disease they’ve been getting from the Europeans for years.)

Meanwhile, in the nearby Native American village…

mantle village

Father Sweetwater teaches the chief about Jesus while a fisherman cooks them a nice roasted fish dinner.

preaching fireside

Father Sweetwater said, “Jesus is good.” And that is the story of the first Thanksgiving.*

*Not really.

Extended Holiday

his hands while he cooks

He made squash for Thanksgiving dinner. He had to work that night, but he made this wonderful squash dish as his contribution. His love in a side dish, so we wouldn’t forget. There was a moment at the table, one moment, when everyone was eating and someone tasted the squash and exclaimed over its flavor. Then someone else had to try and soon everyone was eating squash and exclaiming, so I got to brag on my beloved, which made me beam. I adore him.

“Where is he?” They all asked. “It’s so awful he has to work!” And then they pat my cheek while I insist that I don’t mind, I’m used to it. He’s worked every single holiday for every year I’ve known him, eleven years last July. I long ago gave up on the idea of spending holidays with him. I resented it for years until I figured out that holidays don’t have to be celebrated when everyone else celebrates and new traditions can be invented every year. Now I kind of love it. He works on holidays so we’re forced to draw them out, add an extra day of celebration to the week. An extra day to feel grateful, safe, loved. An extra day to sleep in and eat good food. It turns out to be pretty fabulous.

This year we shared a romantic Thanksgiving for two on Michael’s day off. We ate meatloaf leftovers and worked on a Christmas craft project inspired by the Dia de los Muertos display we saw earlier in the month. It turns out that clay people and cardboard houses are waaaaay harder to make than you’d think. Three hours of work yielded six naked, faceless people, one house with an unattached roof and only half a paint job, and a miniature wiener dog. If we actually want a whole village we’ll be working on this every year for the rest of our lives, but then again, isn’t that what it was all about? Creating a new family tradition.

He’ll work Christmas Eve and Christmas, New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. We’ll wait until his next day off to celebrate together, the two of us, alone in our little home with the beasts and their endless shedded tufts of hair. We’ll cook if it sounds like fun or we’ll order in. We’ll nest. We’ll watch holiday movies or go adventuring, build tiny dream homes out of cardboard and hot glue or spend hours in bed. Whatever we do won’t matter as long as we’re together, uninterrupted, happy and in love.

This is my fourth week linking up with Just Write. You should totally link up too.

It’s not all skin and bones

This is the best. song. ever. I seriously cannot stop myself from dancing whenever I hear it. Total mood picker-up-er. Play the video, close your eyes and listen to this song. Now. Play it play it play it DO IT!

Wasn’t that awesome? Don’t you feel great now? Is that not the happiest song you’ve ever heard in your entire life? The perfect feeling to start a long weekend with, am I right?

Did you get enough to eat?


Happy Thanksgiving from the Babblebrooks, the Thistlethornes, the Sweetwaters,
and my inner child.

Good Monday, Internets! I trust you had a nice Thanksgiving? I did. I spent all day Thursday baking, then dinner at my brother’s house. Friday Mike spent all day cooking and we had dinner at my parents house. Saturday I had lunch with Kim’s Kitchen Sink, which was wonderful, my only complaint being that we didn’t get a photo together and we really should have. Sunday we had my cousins and some longtime family friends over for turkey sandwiches and all in all it was a wonderful, long, relaxing weekend.


Rocky Thistlethorne wants to teach Father Sweetwater to fish Native-Style. But should they take Rocky’s trusty canoe or the Mayflower?


Chief Kelsey Sweetwater is having a pow wow with Brother’s Charlie and Chester, of the Thistlethorne Pilgrim Clan.

(We can thank my childhood feline companion for the sacrifice of a small bird which provided the feathers in Chief Kelsey’s headdress.)


The native women come bearing gifts of beads and blankets to the timid Pilgrim ladies.

And coming up next week… It’s Christmas in Sylvania!

(Also, is it living with my parents that’s causing this regression into childhood, or just the holidays and some good old fashioned nostalgia?)