Holidays, Fall and Winter

We didn't travel this Thanksgiving.  It was just the three of us, Suzanne, Lillia, and me, offering our thanks around our table.  Suzanne and I were thankful for the same things: our lives--which are truly blessed, our families, each other, Lillia.  I'm sure Lillia is thankful for these things, too, at least as she understands them.  Lillia was also thankful for pumpkin pie (as was I).

I bought a new laptop with a video camera built in, and Henry, my brother-in-law, showed me how to set up Skype on it so we could video conference with family in New Jersey over the holidays.  It was quite the hit, especially with Lillia, who kept returning to the closed laptop asking to speak with Grandma Joan again. Here is the moment of that first connect, captured by Henry in New Jersey.

Janet, Joan, Betsy in front.  Molly and Ken behind.  I believe they are all amazed by my new beard.  And of course Lillia by video.

And speaking of holidays, here is a picture of Lillia, after a hard evening of trick or treating on Halloween, still wearing most of her butterfly disguise, cleverly designed by mom to baffle the authorities during that evening of extortion:

Notice she has already removed her antennae. Clever girl. She will prove useful to La Famiglia. 

It is 18 degrees and snowing.  Suzanne says the grey sky today is reminiscent of the battleship skies of winters of her childhood in New Jersey. Lillia was, of course, refusing to dress this morning, insisting that naked and shoeless is best.  This is one of the unexpected drawbacks of central heating.  I opened the front door for a moment with her in my arms wearing nothing but a diaper (Lillia, that is) and suddenly she saw my wisdom, allowing me to dress her without further argument.  

Anyway, a few pictures from the last few weeks, before Denver became the large Frigidaire it currently is:

Suzanne, my wife and mother to la principessa, and Benjamin, the long-suffering King of Bunnies.

Our backyard, nicely gnawed by said King of Bunnies, mere weeks ago.

And now, staring into the refrigerator of our backyard.  Where is that pie, anyway?

So long, friends.  I'll try to write again soon.

Tom