Thursday, November 22

One More Thanksgiving

Angel's Thanksgiving morning began after everyone else was up. My day began in the front yard, digging up an old brick border that had been overgrown with grass and moving it back a few feet using a different pattern. Had to fill in the resulting trench with topsoil, hoping new grass will cover it in a little less than a month. Yeah, right. Some new seed might help.

Then it was time to turn under the weeds in the flower bed, rake, sweep and come in for breakfast sometime during this whole endeavor. Angel enjoyed her bacon and eggs and huge cinnamon bun (except for the 'crunchy', dark bottom). Barb cleaned up the kitchen, getting ready to cook the bird and heat the dinner (we bought a package deal this year). Liz cleaned the bathroom. I cleaned the living room and washed windows. We were having a guest for our 2 p.m. dinner.

Mild California November sunshine graced the day. Angel wore her new dress and complained about the itchy long stockings while trying to find something to do. She played computer games, played in the street with a new remote control car (for about 5 minutes), dragged out her SpongeBob Game of Life and beat her mother on the first round.

Uncle Bob came and enjoyed the first good meal (he said) since we had him over the last time. Poor guy. We heard a number of his old 'growing up on the farm' stories, which I never get tired of. Especially the one where his father is looking through the bedroom window during a 1936 lightning storm one night in Iowa. Kids in bed in the other room. Lightning struck the huge oak tree outside, came down the eaves and wall, came inside and struck Bob's dad in the elbow as he was holding on to the iron bed, made two perfect 1/4 inch holes in the bed and shot backward, right over his wife's head and caught her hair on fire. Then it went through the room to the front room windows before exiting and grounding outside. Bob's dad's forearm was split in two, along with three of his finders exploding at their ends. Yeow! Didn't have any strength in that arm afterward. A few years later, the house would burn to the ground.

After dinner and Uncle Bob's leaving, Liz, Barb and Angel played clue.

Let's all be thankful for the many providential blessings of preservation in our own lives today of all days. Speaking of which, the following read will confirm your belief that God is in control. The Old Jersey Captive by Thomas Andros. The Revolutionary War English prison ships were hell-holes anchored off the coast of Long Island. Andros was taken prisoner, then escaped. This is the wonderful firsthand account of the horrible ship conditions, his escape and care while he tried to get back home to Connecticut.

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