11.28.2007

post-thanksgiving vacation



We had a very nice thanksgiving with the kaisers, but for the fact that i left my camera at home. they have a new baby cockatoo that is adorable and lives to be held. their parrotlet felt otherwise.

friday morning i had to work so that afternoon we drove up to my people's in sunny and warm Hanford , California. that night we opened our christmas present from my parents-as it is likely that meg will not make it up ther for christmas due to work-, which was incredibly generous (thank you again, so very much). after the small festivities we all went out to the hanford christmas parade, always one of my favorite events. it is a small town parade, lots of kids, lots of 4-h-ers , trucks pulling hay wagons full of children and a small gasoline generator that is powering more christmas lights than would fit on your house. The vendors pushing their carts of various inflatable and light up googaws and cotton candy past the crowded sidewalks . highschool acquaintances sit in lawn chairs bundled under blankets and wool caps as squeaky versions of jingle bell rock are belted out by sweaty marching band members. it is quaint, campy, divine. one long standing tradition was sadly dark this year. the furniture store that converted its windows into giant holiday displays featuring animatronic forest critters frollicking had gone out of business, and with it took the fuzzy robots of yesteryear.


Saturday we went shopping . meg bought clothes and i got a dremel. i feel about it the same invincible way i felt about my leatherman. with this tool, i can do anything. at present i have not used it for anything more than defacing the box it came in-but I COULD do so much more...

we had a nice time , took photos with the folks and went home on sunday.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Loved the "parade talk!" That is just how it is! We had a great time with you and it was nice to all be together for the weekend. Hopefully, you will find more dremel projects to let your little creative juices flow! Mom