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Nichol's House Antiques in Sylva, NC, where more is more.

Betty with wildlife

Today we went in different directions. Matt took the kids to see Wreck-it Ralph, their second viewing, and Betty and I drifted down to Sylva's Main Street to stimulate the local economy. Actually I spent zero dollars, but I offered crucial moral support as Betty navigated through the purchase of a set of coasters, a dish cloth, and a vintage lace tablecloth. We were digging through an entire sideboard full of table linens, with the proprietress helping us, and we kept finding things that were pretty but not quite right. Of one, a little oblong linen piece with french knot embroidery, I said, "Betty, you could put this on your piano." Betty thought and said, "There is a fine line between pretty and little old lady." Then she and the other lady laughed and high fived each other in generational solidarity.

This store is set up in an old house, with each room containing its proper things: bed linens in the bedroom, more masculine stuff in the study, etc. Lots to wander around and look at, and I always appreciate their maximalist approach to Christmas decorating. There is a unified sensibility to the place that makes it feel almost like someone's actual house.

I was sort of looking for things for my nieces, but I don't think that tween girls have the proper appreciation for a punch bowl resting on a pedestal made of antlers.

I blame Taylor Swift?

We remain here in the Thanksgiving mountain citadel. All of the leftovers are almost gone, so we might have to move on soon. You? 

  

Constitutional

At Deep Creek.

We didn't do much today and we didn't start that until after lunch. It was gray and wintry-looking here, without actually being very chilly. Matt and the kids and I headed to Deep Creek, our favorite summer tubing spot, to walk in the woods. I like this time of year for a hike; with no leaves you can see so far through the woods. You can see the shapes of the ridge tops and hills. When we got down to the river, we kept marveling at how different it all looked with bare trees. Or different-yet-familiar, like it had been remodeled. Let's just open up this space here and get some more light in.

As I snapped this picture, Hank was reaching into his pocket for a little bag of skittles he'd saved from the movie the other day and brought along. We laughed remembering that the last time he'd walked this trail, he was about two-and-a-half, and he'd had candy in his hand then too. It was February, and he'd been given a little Snoopy Valentine that contained exactly three pieces of chocolate. Even though he was a toddler, he made the journey carrying that heart box in his hand, and he rationed the candy as he went. While we all stood around with no snack and no candy, he would pause, sit carefully down on the ground, and have a chocolate. He had one at the beginning, one in the middle, and one at the end. I remember that he was so little, he was still wearing a one-piece outfit that snapped up the legs. He was potty-trained then, but just barely, and I remember several breaks to "go pee pee like a bear." Today he said he remembered that day, but I think he just remembers our recitations of it.

As we walked today, the kids wanted to do riddles and puzzles, so we dredged up every one we could think of. Laura solved the Riddle of the Sphinx but was completely stumped by, "What state is tall in the middle and round on both ends?"

Then there was leftover-eating and hot tubbing. Another highlight: I took the pie tin containing the last piece of pumpkin pie into the sun room with Betty, closed the door to children, and and had a long catch-up session on the entire extended family. As we talked, I finished my piece and ate every remaining morsel of pie, mashing the crumbs with my index finger. When I was fully up to speed on all goings-on, the plate was clean. All's right with the world, but we are sad to see that pie go.

What is up in your domestic citadel? Are you still in holiday isolation? I have not even bought anything online. Asceticism! xoxo

We Really Excel At This

The basically doing nothing, that is. I didn't even put on shoes today. Pretty sure that on the first Thanksgiving, the Pilgrims had Squanto over to eat party mix and half-watch all the Lord of the Rings movies.

Did you have a nice day? I rolled out of bed about nine. Betty and Andy were on their way. I had no food prepared, but my eleven year-old wanted to be put to work. I lined up all the supplies for her, and she made two pumpkin pies, then an apple pie, then cut up the potatoes for eventual mashing. Then she made the grape salad. I was like, who says holiday cooking is stressful? She was so happy to be in charge of something, and she's gotten pretty capable.

And of course we had this can of cranberry jelly. Our turkey was organically raised on grass and taught to read by nuns, but we also gotta have the Ocean Spray. Hank thought it was a candle. I admit, I love that stuff.

While we were cooking, Hank was out shooting at things with his homemade bow and arrows, happy as the grass is green. He had practically come to my bedside in the morning, brandishing a long stick that needed to be cut into arrows. Then he was after me to find a sharp knife for his daddy to whittle them with. He would be a very good producer or project manager. He figures out who can do what for him and then he makes it happen.

It was sunny and cool up here today, and we read, chatted, and drank a bottle of champagne while we waited for the bird to finish. All the food was good, even if I forgot to put any turkey neck in the gravy. When I pushed my chair back from the table, I was seized by some kind of stupor, lay down, took a two-hour nap, and then roused myself with thoughts of pie.

While I slept, Matt got in the hot tub with the kids and then watched The Rescuers with them. Then we all played Settlers of Catan, and now everyone has gone to bed. Matt is stretched out asleep with his head in my lap, and Aragorn is trying to hold Helm's Deep. I'm blogging on my phone, and I would sit here forever except that I might have to go to the bathroom in a minute. Now you know literally everything.

I hope you're having a good time, wherever you are. You're not out shopping, are you? If so, tell us what you got. xoxo

Why Didn't You List That Among Our Assets in The First Place?

We just got to the mountain house a little bit ago to spend Thanksgiving. My parents aren't here, but Matt's mom and brother Andy will join us tomorrow.

The house has been empty, so earlier today I called Mom to see what pantry staples might be here before I hauled bags of flour, sugar, and cornmeal across state lines. She said that they'd pretty well cleaned everything out before they left for the season. Okay, so I loaded a huge red plastic tub with absolutely everything I need to make two pies, sweet potato au gratin, grape salad, and cornbread dressing. Also: wine, fruit, crackers, milk, etcetera.

I arrived to cupboards that were far from bare. I was pleased to find: Vodka; pie crusts; and five (5) opened boxes of ice cream cones.

And that is how Debbie rolls.

I think it's going to be the best Thanksgiving ever.

I need to go because Percy is barking at something that probably is a bear. Maybe it will eat her. xoxo

Sent from my iPhone

Summer Flashback: Ate at Joe's

During my lengthy summer blog hiatus, we got to go spend a week with Matt's family at his brother and sister-in-law's lake house in Western Mass. Chris and Robin were awesome hosts. This was a week of many new scenes for us, and we loved it all: The lake, the perfect temperatures, and the pretty little towns. One day we went to the Norman Rockwell museum in Stockbridge, which is well worth seeing for all the Saturday Evening Post covers alone. Then we went to the Joe's Diner that you see in several Rockwell paintings from the 50's. It's in Lee, and if Robin hadn't taken us there, I never would have noticed it. It is a tiny hole-in-the-wall place. But guess who was there? The actual Joe, seen in this painting.

"The Runaway," 1958.

My runaways, 2012. With the authentic Joe!

Joe was quite happy to pose with the kids. Recreating the painting was his suggestion.

Cousins: Laura, Kay, Hank, and Abby

The museum is on a really pretty piece of land, and they've moved Rockwell's studio there from in town. That was my favorite part. It's a cute little house that looks like a barn. This was a great outing to do with kids, because they really get down with the whole illustration thing. The museum had a neat scavenger hunt of stuff for the kids to find in the paintings.

Outside Stockbridge

In the studio. L, Abby, and Kay compare two different versions of "Mosaic."

Hank wanted to be sure everybody saw his pirate flag, which was actually from a Howard Pyle exhibit at the museum and had nothing to do with Rockwell. But you know, yarr!

Thank you for indulging me in this nostalgic look back at July. It was just a simpler world then, you know? xoxo

In Which I Win at Flea Markets

Noble. And Dignified. Like Louis!

Yesterday morning at my brother and sister-in-law's place, a movement arose to venture out to a local flea market. This flea market promised many delights. "They have pigs and goats!" Kate said. I was like, "I'm in." And Laura was way in. She loves looking through junk even more than I do. Hank wasn't feeling that great, he had a cold, so I threw Matt a lifeline and asked him if he would mind staying home with him. One thing I've learned about Matt in seventeen years of marriage is that he would rather be kicked straight in the throat than go to a flea market.

So we made our way up and down and looked at everything. Laura was in high spirits, because she knew it was a virtual certainty that money would be spent on her. And after I shook my head to a counterfeit North Face jacket and some disgusting cowboy boots, she lit upon a little doll chest with a cut glass knob. Mom found a Russel Wright cream pitcher for a quarter. It's exactly the same as the cream pitcher I found last year--the kind that's supposed to sit on a matching sugar bowl. WHERE ARE THE SUGAR BOWLS? Katie bought a little piece of needlepoint and some Amish cheese. Dad bought a green army blanket that must be the missing piece in his surely now-complete army blanket collection. I didn't see anything I wanted. I eyed a Frankoma serving tray in the shape of Texas. If it had been in the shape of a state where I'd ever lived, I might have bought it. But nah.

Finally we were on the way out and I saw that stuffed swan guy sitting on the ground. It tinkled some key of memory somewhere--I remember seeing patterns for these animal pillows in the fabric store when I was a kid. I turned this one over and he was clearly home stuffed and sewn. And he has a little label that says, "Wild Swan." I looked at the man in the booth, and he held up one finger. I was like, "Oh for one dollar, this is ALL MINE." Laura cheered me on. When I rejoined the rest of our group with this bird under my arm, I'm sure it was the least surprised they've ever been. I said, "I had to get this, I can't really answer any questions about it." And Kate said, "Yeah, I don't know why, but that's just you all over."

On the way home, we wondered what Matt would say when he saw my special find. Dad went with, "Really?" And I predicted something like, "Well I'm glad we got THAT finally." But when I walked in and placed the swan on the coffee table, what he actually said was, "Oh no, no, no, no, no!" Dad goes, "Nobody had that in the pool." And Matt closed his eyes for a minute. I don't know if he was tired or what. And then when we were packing the car to go, he insisted on calling it a goose. And that's just hurtful! A goose, really.

So I don't know, like my owl lamp, I couldn't just leave it there. I love animal motifs, but I am also trying to rid our house of clutter. Which makes this purchase an odd move. I may decorate it for Christmas and stick it under the tree. Or I may put it under the covers on Matt's side of the bed tonight. Or in the driver's seat of his car. So many fun possibilities!

Group Pics

Ma and me. My hair has gotten long all the sudden?

The weekend is demanding enough without having to read a bunch of words. So I will give you a few pictures instead. We had a really good day rambling around my brother's new place, and later I'll have to tell you about how this haunting of the little church across the road and the local Bigfoot is like Totally A Thing all around here. But Saturday night is no time for narrative.

Gabe clambering.

Laura bouncing.

Kate and Dave have a tall, pretty living room. Love.

Kitchen conversation.

Gorgeous and warm here today.

Dudes al fresco.

Don't know where the baby was for this shot.

My sister-in-law is like a 33rd-level Wizard of Lunch. We came back from a walk and she'd put the baby down for a nap and prepared a huge meal. Which we ate gratefully. The End. I hope you had pleasant and satisfying times today. xoxo

Into Green Acres

Baby Gabe is working hard, but he wants to know, are you?

My brother and sister-in-law, formerly of Capitol Hill, Washington DC, have lit out for the territory, leaving their city life and buying a house on 39 acres in the country outside Huntsville, Alabama. So far outside Huntsville, actually, that they are in Tennessee. The house is a beautiful, barely lived-in cottage that was custom built by two gay guys. Ideal. There is a cave entrance on their property, lots of deer and turkeys, a haunted church across the road, and a legend about a Bigfoot-style monster, the Beast of Bee Spring, who stalks the area. So, basically perfect. This local Bigfoot has a devoted cult following of people who assemble at the church every Halloween to wait for him to manifest, like a redneck Great Pumpkin.

I am very excited to visit.

And we are going over there tonight, just for the weekend. Yay! I haven't seen Gabriel in forever, or not since August anyway.

I am packing our things and we will leave as soon as Matt gets finished playing something called Whirlyball. I don't know, it's a company team-building thing, and it involves bumper cars and lacrosse sticks. And people think computer game development is not a real job.

Leaving town means I had to turn down an invitation from my tennis friend T to go see the new Twilight movie with her. Which I totally would have done, but it will have to wait. Oh Edward!

What are y'all up to? Have a good Friday night and I will check back in with you tomorrow, unless I meet the Beast of Bee Spring first.