On Monday, I leave for a rather long time (for me). Driving to Massachusetts will be a two or three day journey. I won't press it, because my experience with inclement weather driving is limited. I will be happy to find a hotel rather than risk catastrophe.

On Wednesday, I should be in Massachusetts. Now, that means that I will have a few days of framming around in libraries (how the excitement builds for those who find libraries less than exciting!) Also, I will be with my gal pal Claudia who is the coolest person going on four cylinders. She and I kayak together (she can kick my butt with a paddle), we walk our dogs together, (her two white Westies with my two black poodles) and we live across the street from one another ( half time when she isn't in Massachusetts).

I think I will spend most of Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday there in various libraries and museums. Perhaps by Monday we will be ready to head home. Which will put me back home by Thursday of the following week.

Today, Thursday, was Boo's day off. I had previously promised to help a friend inventory her store. Promises are important to me. I kept my promise, even though at the time I made it, I was not aware that it would be his day off. But I told him and it all worked out. We had a lovely dinner courtesy of dear daughter's gift card to the Heniboo. Then we returned to my tiny cottage to watch a movie. De lovely, The Cole Porter story.

It has come to my not always rapt attention that I am pulling a BadAunt blog, weaving four stories into the fabric of one blog. Albeit in her case, probably better written.

It seems that I have a propensity for finding movies that Boo likes. This is because I find movies that I will probably like. I took a huge risk and showed him one that was questionable... and well, he downloaded it. From there, who can guess. So far I am 4 for 4.

Now, back to the fabric of this story. Wait. Remind me to tell you about a hair wreath, speaking of fabric. But the fabric here was that today was the day that Henry had off and that meant our last time together before my big adventure. As previously stated, we had dinner, and a movie and it was all very romantic. There was lots of hand holding and such, punctuated by sniffling during the sad scenes. Mine, not his. But clearly he liked the movie too. There were also a number of times after the movie ended that we were rolling around laughing. Por exemplo: one of my pet peeves is when someone starts a list:

Number one: I don't think that whojimutsit should do whatchadoodle. And furthermore Auntie Clarisse said cod roe is not suitable for backhoe lubrication because they are just too dry. By the way, Sally is knocked up again! Did you know?

SofP Rule NUMBER 1: if you are going to start a list, then list stuff. A list of one is not a list.

Pet peeve number two (which nearly had us doing laundry) : Becky Jo says "Number A = Selma had no right telling Jeb squat. "

SofP Rule NUMBER 2: in which the word "number" and any letters are disasociated. Get it? Number A my arse. Number one, number 54, Letter A, letter M. Got it?

So back to the pretense of the reason for this blog. Saying goodbye to Heni (whose middle names include: patient, tolerant, romantic, and able to leap small buildings with a little help) for even a couple of weeks is tough.... real tough. The healthy part of me that associates with our collective selves being separate and good collides with the insecure part of me. I wanted to hear that three word phrase in the event of some horrible thing that I hope will not happen. But in the event that this is my last trip.... those three words apply to him. Mostly because after I told him that I find it to be problematic when someone says: number A, I told you thus and so, he responded appropriately with the following - paraphrased.....

Number A - I told you thus and so....

My sister Mimi and I share ancestry (a note to acknowledge the obvious). She has the sublime pleasure of sitting back and watching whilst *I* put together our past. All that she has to do is look appreciative (albeit with that glazed look that frequently crosses the eyes of those who must endure my list of "begats")

As a sort of sidebar, if you will... I am very intrinsically suffering the effects of the Tsunami and the enormous death toll. That 80 thousand will soon enough be small potatoes, I fear, when the diseases start. I am overwhelmed with emotion. Those of you who know me know that I am not glib. I don't mean to gloss over the enormity of the tragedy. That said, today there is not much that I can do. As the days go by, it is my intention to do something. I just do not know what that might look like.

Now back to our previously scheduled blog. Today I took the car to be serviced in preparation of the drive. And I did more research. Sometimes what is right in front of me is - right in front of me. In this case, a newspaper clipping of an article about our great uncle Ralph who stated that his grandfather was the captain of a whaling ship. So I frammed around and found the Fairhaven Whaling Museum and they have surprise! A research department! Another library! Microfilm of whaling ship logs! And to my delight - our great grandfather, Pardon Tripp of Fairhaven, Massachusetts was the Master of the Roman 2 on a voyage. Along with three other logs that are on film that I can read and print and pass on to my grandchildren! So their great great grandfather was the captain of a whaling ship. Now won't THAT make a great hot chocolate by the fire with Bubbe story!

Soon I shall embark on an adventure. In a few short days I am off to return to my roots, Massachusetts. I have a few years under my belt and a bit more knowledge of history and my heritage. I have a plan in place. I will visit libraries, but I will be armed with the groundwork and have an objective in mind.

My focus is on Fairhaven. My grandmother's grandfather, John D. Tripp was a fireman in Fairhaven in 1860. He is descended from Pardon Tripp, who captained a whaling ship. Family history has him becoming grounded on Cape Horn at one point. I want to glean much information from the Millicent Library there. I have established a valued contact. My new friend Debbie the archivist will be gifted with much that is Florida, not the least of which will be oranges hand delivered.

Yes, I am certifiably nuts. January in Massachusetts for this girl who has spent the last thirty eight in Florida. But along with my geneological mission, I have a mission of mercy. Mercy, coincidentally, is a name that is associated with my family on my father's maternal side in the form of one Mercy Lake. Anyone know of her???? Anyway, back to current mercy... my gal pal Claudia is in Massachusetts with her little dog. She needs to be transported home to the house across the street from me. So that is what I am doing and why. Claudia will get home. I get time in Massachusetts libraries looking at old newspapers. Splendid. Simply splendid.

I come from whalers. I come from those who settled this country. I come from sturdy stock. My ancestors were those who settled Massachusetts colonies and I can trace my roots to John Alden and Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

Most important, I come from whalers. Men who went out to sea and took on a larger thing than themselves with the single thought that it would be adventure. Men who left behind women whose job it was to keep things going while they were gone for months and even years. Women who truly kept the home fires burning in cold and harsh New England in the not so convenient 1850's.

I remember my mother pointing out "widow's walks" on the houses of Cape Cod that bordered the sea. I remember the stories told of ghosts of widows who never felt resolution, who never saw their man return from the sea. I remember that feeling. I have been widowed now, five years. I continue to feel that he might return, that it has all been some incredibly silly mistake. The larger, logical part of me knows that it is not so. There remains a part that trudges along that widow's walk, night after night, I pull my shawl tight against that wind blowing in along the coast of Fairhaven.

Soon, I will return to Fairhaven. Soon, as in within two weeks. The pulse of Massachusetts beats in my veins and soon I will be there with my feet upon its soil or snow, as it were. My heart has reached out for connections and they have been made. There are those who wait for me, who want to help me find my connections.

It is a coming home. I am returning to find where she blows. I am returning to find where I fit into my roots in my legacy that is the beginning of this country. I have played a part in this.

Thar she blows again.

In the general scheme of things, it has come to my attention that Boo AKA Henry rarely misses noticing important details.  Furthermore, he actually listens to what I have to say.  Both of these qualities are good for my self esteem. Frankly, I like it.

At some juncture over the past six months (sidebar - we have recently celebrated our six month anniversary) I expressed my trepidations regarding small internal combustion engines. Things like lawn mowers and blowers frighten me. Specifically, because of the lay of the land here with a deck and a pool I would need a blower. I pondered buying an electric one. Apparently I pondered out loud. Because yesterday Boo brought me a beautifully gift wrapped battery operated Black & Decker Sweeper.

Before I opened it, he made me try to guess what it was. I got three guesses. I could not have been more off the mark. I would never have dreamed that such a wonderful innovation was available. So how could I guess. Once we had it assembled (translation: I watch as Heni puts the nozzle on the unit) we took it out for a test drive ..... errrrr test sweep.

And I thought of BadAunt at that moment. Not because of the broom - witch connotation that you are all attributing to me. But because we (BadAunt and I) have recently been discussing the inherent value of mummified lizards. You see, this sweeper is a big blower. It blows leaves and twigs off the deck. It also blows baby lizards who are playing on the deck into the equivalent of Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. The look of shock and rightous indignation on the face of a baby lizard is something to see, I assure you.  I wish to reassure you, no baby lizards were harmed in the making of this blog. They did, however, fly - even if only momentarily.

BadAunt wrote about some wonderful scrapbooks created by this 104 year old lady that The Man is working on with a plan to publish some in a book. Now, you may or may not know this, but I spend a great deal of time and energy putting together scrapbooks, greeting cards and the like. So I thought I would post some photos of a birthday card that I recently sent to a friend. Now you all will know why I only send out ONE holiday card per year.

This card is all about fossils. The concept is "It takes a long time to make an old friend". I wish I could take credit for being that clever, but the designers at Club Scrap get that honor. I just take their ideas and fit them into my stuff.

I was thinking today about that first kiss. Then I thought about it again when I saw Lynne's article. I thought that it deserved a revisit. Since we are within days of a six month anniversary, it is only fitting that we review that first kiss. Don't you think?

This is what I wrote:

Oh sweet dear l-rd. The kiss. That first kiss. It soared and dipped and swung from a rafter. It lilted and shifted gears and dipped itself in chocolate. Then it swelled like a crescendo and crashed into a distant shore. It broke to a boil like custard in an unwatched saucepan. It rose like the bosom in a cheap romance novel and the doves all left their nightly roost and the fireworks went off and the world ceased to spin and then.... the air conditioner kicked on in a vain attempt to dispell the heat, cities suddenly found themselves without power as a result and then.... there was another, and another and then yet still more.

Kisses and more like velvet and softness and all that is right with the world. Kisses so soft and tender that you would think we were fragile. Kisses so hard that you would think we would shatter under the weight and depth and breadth of them. Kisses that would hold up to the test of time. Kisses that would undoubtedly be Atkins Approved.

So I have kissed and been kissed and it was wonderful. Film at eleven.

I read with much interest Lynne's blog about the article in the NY Times about blogging and privacy. http://www.nytimes.com/2004/12/19/magazine/1 9PHENOM.html" title="http://www.nytimes.com/2004/12/19/magazine/1 9PHENOM.html" target="_blank"http://www.nytimes.com/2004/1...

Now, as many of you may be aware, since the onset of the Henry and Susan show (soon to go into syndication) I have blogged about our dates, that first kiss, my feelings, his feelings, posted photographs and otherwise been very public about our relationship. I don't think that I have ever mentioned his whole name, or his place of employment. But nonetheless, you all are privvy to much info about the Boo. Including the Boo. Who, apparently, is an avid reader and member of the frequent flyer club in the House of Pudlin.

The article made me review to see if I have indeed, violated his privacy. Now, I hold him in the utmost respect and if I thought for a minute that I had shared information that would make him feel badly or embarrass him, I would delete it, apologize publicly and then... who knows, rend my garments and rub ashes in my hair. Or paint my tongue black.

The Boo, (as he has been affectionately coined) utilizes this blog as sort of a barometer for how and what I am feeling. This is not a new thing, this dates back to well... nearly our first date. The Boomeister is a very very smart cookie. We talked about the blog. I showed him the blog on his pc. Next thing I knew, someone was showing up in my pro-stats using Pudlin as a search string. Well even *I* can put two and two together and come up with the square root of seven minus three. But I digress, and frequently at that.

Now that we have six months of history, we have a well established pattern of communication. This blog is part of that style of communication. Make no mistake, we talk nearly every day. We exchange multitudinous quantities of email. We spend at least a day a week together and most of the time, every other weekend we take a "One Tank Trip". Sometimes, like today, we had a bowl of Pho'. Short and sweet and to the point, but too many days had gone by without me seeing his shining face.

But this is where he has an opportunity to see into my head at the moment. This is where my soul connects with keystrokes and much as I might like to control where the topic leads, the soul kicks in and may very well redirect it to what is really going on. I am like chocolate pudding skin on the top of the bowl. This blog is the spoon.

So as the relationship blossomed I have considered his feelings. I have refrained from any context that might be viewed as risque' for a number of reasons. First and foremost is respect for him and for me and for us. I really feel that you who are adults can utilize your imaginations if that is your desire. Frankly, I am not all that interested in what goes on in other's bedrooms and I would hope that you shared that sentiment. Then there is the fact that my family reads this. It sends my skeeve-o-meter into redline to think that my daughter or my niece or my sister would innocently open a blog to read about what is going on with the puds and Heni and I to find some torrid love scene spilling out all over the internet. Look, for the most part, humans having sex are not reinventing any wheels. Can't sex be kept on a "need to know" basis? Can't that "need to know" include only participants? Am I too demanding? Am I asking too much?

But other than that, there have been times when I have self censored. Then restated what I deleted. Then made comments on other blogs that expose parts of me that may be different than what I present. Because all of us present one face that we would like to believe is an accurate representation of who we are. Yet all of us have our secrets and quirks and idiosyncrasies. Stuff that we would not so much like revealed on the first, second, third - ok stuff we would prefer to deny even to ourselves. And that is ok. Actually, that is better than ok, that is good. Because I want to be accepted, respected, and loved for the total package. The total package is that of a human being, warts and all.

So, NYTimes notwithstanding, I will (with Heni's permission - and he has verbally encouraged me to do so) continue to blog and continue to write about how I feel and what I feel.

This is how I feel today: I had a bowl of pho' with one of the most amazing, interesting, special, and truly wonderful human beings that I have ever been priveleged to know.

Simmering along here in sunny, yet nippy Florida. Busy, and relatively happy, most of the time. Yet, the emotional part of me is as always, right there under the surface. I cry at the silliest things. I cry at repeats of Sex and the City, when Carrie finally reveals Big's name on her cell phone. I cry at Love Actually, which should have been titled "Love, Acutely", which, coincidentally, I have seen no less than a dozen times. I am not at all convinced that this is abnormal, considering where I have been and where I am going. I am only reporting the news.

I cried when I got the mail yesterday. Because someone I care deeply for sent an unexpected and lovely thoughtful package and I put one of the cd's in the player and cried some more. Then I cried when I found the marriage intention of my great great great grandfather Pardon Tripp to Sarah Macomber.

Thursday, Henry and I had a lovely HeniDayOff by going to the technology stores to find me a new printer/scanner combo. I was worried about something and I took a risk. The something was that once a month I go to this gathering of women and we do this thing called Club Scrap. We get this beautiful grouping of papers and ephemera and stamps and such. We turn it into scrap book pages and cards. Some of you may have received one of my homemade cards. This is the stuff. So this monthly meeting is an important thing to me. I attend to get ideas, share ideas and to learn new techniques. I was worried that I would have to make a choice. Now, to be sure, I wanted to spend HeniDayOff with the Boo. But I was loathe to miss this meeting. I missed last month's because I was in trial all week. So I told him about it. His shocking response? "How about we do what we planned and I bring a book? It is only a couple of hours". So we went to the techie store, then to a beautiful dinner at a beautiful Thai restaurant and then to Club Scrap! Now I ask you. How many of you have companions who would be fine with that? We had a fine time.

So then Friday night, I went back and managed to complete six pages. And today, I went back to correct some issues with bindings. I won't bore you with details.

But this I will tell you. At the end of the day, when I am safely ensconced in my monogrammed sheets dripping with Chantilly lace (courtesy of Mimi) and my dogs are beside me (relatively healthy) and I know that Henry is either thinking of me or here with me, I don't cry so much. Because in the grand scheme of things, I have it pretty darn good. Yes, I have lost a lot. But it remains that I have had a lot. For if you don't have anything to lose, then while you don't have anything to cry about, you don't get to celebrate the memories either. I wouldn't have it any other way.

So I wanted to share with you all the wonderful time that Henry and I had exchanging Hannukah gifts for the first time. Earlier you got to see Henry opening his tickets to David Copperfield, so it is only fitting that you get to see moi open my gift...... which came in a teensy weensy little box.

which contained the most gawdjus black pearl earrings that you have ever seen. Does it look like I was pleased?????

So here we are Saturday morning getting ready to eat jelly doughnuts and hot chocolate before opening gifts. This is what you get with so called "blended" families. My grandchildren get Hannukah with me, and Christmas with the rest of their family.

And this is my family. From left to right we have: Tyler, Justin (with the lipstick on his forehead) then that's me with Ashley on my lap, next is Henry and then Daughter Chrissy with Morgan on her lap. Sister Mimi took the photo.

We had a wonderful time. Except that the children ripped through stuff like bulls in china shop. I need to remember that they are children. They need to remember that instruction booklets and small parts get lost and then they get unhappy.

Next year, I am giving them each a book and calling it a day.

About a month or so ago, Chef Richard helped me cut down some dead oak limbs and avocado limbs. There was quite a pile of lumber. Then, I got busy cutting a substantial amount off the key lime tree that was threatening to descend into the pool. The limes were falling off the tree into the pool with alarming frequency.

All of the trimmings were in the back carpark all of this time. I just couldn't get the time, energy or motivation to take care of it. AND it was an elephant sized pile of thorny lime tree limbs and heavy oak branches. Enter Heni the Lumberjack who volunteered to bring his chainsaw over on his day off to help whittle down the elephant. While I was thrilled that he offered this enormous project, I felt that it was my mess and that he should not have to work in my yard on his day off.

So I started without him. I got the loppers and the rake and just started at the pile. This thought kept popping up in my head. "How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time." So I started a fire in the firepit and began tossing in the thinner branches and the chunks that were small enough. I raked leaves into leaf bags and I piled up most of the bigger logs into a pile that was manageable. By the time I got to a point where I could take a break, I could walk around the elephant. By the time Heni showed up with the chainsaw, I could see through the elephant and it was now the size of a baby elephant. And Heni whipped through those logs like they were butter. So now I have one small pile left fo place in the dumpster (that I filled yesterday) when it is empty again. I also have a pile of firewood that should keep us until April. AND I have a drive gate that can be opened for when sister Mimi comes to visit. All thanks to Heni the Lumberjack.

Postscript: After all that hard work, I lit a fire, we had a beer and I ordered a pizza. We watched SeaBisquit and snuggled on the couch. It was a perfect day.

Remember that box that was beside the menorah? The one for Boo? Well, I gave it to him last night. We went to dinner at the big green lizard (The Green Iguana) and then to Target (my autopilot goes on much like Craig's - AKA Irishred who is similarly addicted to Tarjay). While in Target, I had to buy a couple of pairs of purple socks. I dislike purple intensely, but that is a story for another blog. Back to the matter at hand. Rabbits and hats and magic tricks.

Now you must know by now that I am wild about Henry (hmmm, brings to mind a song.... ) and I was really put to the creativity test. See, he has two of most everything and is of the mindset that wastefullness is well... wasteful. He employs the philosophy of "use it up, use it out, make do, do without" in his every day life. So the challenge of finding something that he would enjoy was, to put it mildly, extremely challenging.

And then, I reviewed some of the most vivid memories of the last five or so months. The first kiss, the first time he made dinner for me, watching his David Copperfield videos. Hearing about Henry Miller and other books he enjoyed. Voila'! Light bulb!

David Copperfield tickets. YES! He will be in Tampa in January. So I scored two tickets, fourth row E - which will put us right up front and personal. And then I got this little scrapbook embellishment of a rabbit coming out of a top hat. I put the tickets in the rabbits paws, wrapped that rascal up and here is how it unfolded.

To bring you up to speed, the kitchen is STILL under construction. Tile guy is beginning day two of backsplash tiling. Tile guy is making me a bit crazy. He needs regular reassurance (don't we all) that his craftmanship is appreciated. He appears to be a nice guy, and a bit lonely. I think he needs a girlfriend.

With any luck at all, he will complete the backsplash by early afternoon. Since today is Heni's day off, and I would much prefer spending the afternoon with him rather than listening to tile guy's stories of his grandparent's rottwi eler's mating antics. But I digress.

On other fronts, the sprinkler system is in the process of repair. It apparently still has a leak or two which cause the pump to kick on every few hours and wake me up. But it is much better than it was, and the guy who owns the company that installed it promised to reimburse me for repairs.

The dripping brand new faucet that cost an arm and a leg has been cleared out and is not dripping as much. Plumber guy said that because I have old galvanized pipes (I warned him to not get too personal....) that some bits of detritus were swimming around beneath the washers. They (the pipes) have been flushed out and swished again. The dripping is reduced greatly. It may take another swish before it is abated.

The lawn guy that was slated to move the existing pavers so that the new pavers could be installed has dissappeared with the deposit. The pavers are ready (finally - amazing, the company stated 2 weeks delivery six weeks ago.) but have now been put on hold until I can get the existing stuff moved.

The awning company told me on Monday (after *I* called to find out why they were not calling to let me have a projected ETA of the awning installation) said that they were scheduling and would call me back either Monday or Tuesday. Today is Thursday. Seems that someone dropped that ball too.

After all of these projects are finished? I am going to need a vacation from the daily dealings with the "professional" craftspeople and contractors.

Oh, one more rant..... I wanted new blinds in the guest room. I bought them, brought them home. Remind me next time I get a wild hair up my arse that I fareakin despise that sort of project almost as much as I hate painting. I said more plumbing words that day than are generated in your average truck stop in a month. All over driving six or so screws into a window frame. It took better tha n an hour, and I was ready to kill something by the time I had ONE blind up. The other one? Rocket scientist that *I* am, you think I could actually measure accurately? You think just because I worked in a Home Depot for eleven years that I would know how to measure a f#^*ing window? Not so much. So as soon as tile guy and countertop guy are out of here, and I have 15 minutes to call my own, I get to go to Home Depot (the bakery) and get a big ole honkin' slice of humble pie along with a properly fitted blind.  

Happy Happy Hannukah! To all who celebrate this holiday commemorating freedom of religion and miracles! To those who want to know more, or who want to share in the traditions of their Jewish brethren, I offer up Hannukah, a la House of Pudlin.

See that there big honkin' candle holder? Well, it is a SO not traditional Menorah. I found it in an antique store. It is hand made. If I waited for the candles to burn every night during Hannukah, I would never get any sleep. It is one of several Menorah that I light. Since what I am a nut case for lighting candles. See the two framed prints above? Those are pen and ink drawings of Jewish brides. See the Longaberger baskets? Those are because I should have my head examined.

See that pretty box beside it??? That would be my sweet Baboo's special gift! I am so excited about what is in that box I may very well split! Anyone who correctly guesses the contents of the box will be awarded ONE MILLION TBUCKS. And no, it is not that black satin thong he has been hinting for.

Perhaps you don't know this: I am a freak. Certifiably a freak. I spend countless hours looking for dead people. Ancestors of mine. And I find them. Today, I found a new person to whom I am connected.

My maternal grandmother's father's older brother - Eddie Estabrook.

Yesterday's thrill was finding a marriage certificate that gave me mucho info. Including that my maternal grandfather's father was a hostler (one who keeps horses in the stable) and his father was as well. But the great news is that I have a whole new generation! My grandfather's grandfather was named Seraphim LaLiberte'. How cool is that!

Now, I have been putting this all together in an archival quality scrapbook for my grandchildren. So they don't have to do the work on this side of the family. Because you can't know who you are if you don't know where you came from.

This is a census from 1920. My Estabrooks are listed here, along with a whole heap of information about what their lives were like. It is like putting together a jigsaw puzzle except you don't have the box. You don't have a clue what the picture looks like. Just a few pieces here and there. Maybe you get lucky and find a couple of pieces that fit together. Sometimes, you put together pieces convinced that they fit only to find that just because it was all sky doesn't mean that it was the right sky. Because all of the puzzles have been tossed into the same box and you get pieces of other people's puzzles as well as those that belong to your puzzle.  And that, my dear friends, that is the point of the exercise.

I read an entry in blogland recently about a person (who shall go unnamed) who made a purchase and the cashier apparently made an error. The end result was an item went into the bag that was not paid for. It made me wonder, if this person were overcharged would s/he quietly back away and say "oh well, mistakes happen". I doubt it. I suspect that this individual would be quick to point out that kind of error without missing a beat.

I like to think that I would have returned to the store to pay for the item if it happened to me. After all, how much different is this from stealing? What if the cashier were to lose his/her job over this? At the very least, this loss and others like it will be rolled into increased costs for PAYING customers. That would be those who chose to purchase something and took it to the cash register with the intent of exchanging money for goods.

What would you do?

So it has been brought to my attention that I have been remiss in my blogging lately. Hey, I have been reallllllllll busy. So to bring you up to speed, here are a couple of photos for your viewing and edification.

This is me on the way to the matinee of Madame Butterfly. Henry and I had a wonderful time. My friend John Smith (really!) was in the chorus and is also the Italian language coach. Henry loved the performance. Afterwards we had a lovely dinner of prime rib at a local steak house.

This is my new favorite photograph of the two of us. The occassion was Thanksgiving day.

And this is from the General Mercantile at the Heritage Village. The nice man and I had a great time trying to stump me on what some of the items in the store were. He got me on a couple of them. I surprised him on some others.

And this is obviously the whole family gathered around the Thanksgiving table. Except Henry, who was clearly busy with the camera. Note the lovely expression on MY face. But the rest of the picture IS lovely and we had a wonderful time. That is Mimi next to me, and Anagamesx next to her. On the other side we have the urchins. At the other end of the table is BabyGirl's husband.

This is Bess. She is a dromedary camel and very sweet. She hardly EVER spits. I am the one in the pink. I spit way more often. Note that our hair color is very similar. We bonded during the time we were together. We are sisters of spirit.

This is Bess at work, hauling tourists around a sandy circle. My theory is that by paying dearly to be hauled around by Bess, I am benefitting all of the zoo animals. Since the hurricanes set them back so much due to the expense of shipping the animals to safety, they need all the help they can get.

Yesterday's big adventure was a trip to Lowry Park Zoo http://www.lowryparkzoo.com/NewMainPage/HomePage/ LowryParkZoo.htm" title="http://www.lowryparkzoo.com/NewMainPage/HomePage/ LowryParkZoo.htm" target="_blank"http://www.lowryparkzoo.com/N...  Where we had a simply WONDERFUL time! So I thought you might like to see the photos.

Here is a manatee at the salad bar.

and here is Henry, hanging with a fruit bat.

and this poor bear who was pacing back and forth bored to distraction.

I rode a camel! Her name was Bess and she was very sweet. Henry got photographs of me kissing her. We both enjoyed the stingrays in the tank. One could pet them if you so desired. You can also feed them. I fed the goats. I love goats.

The Lowry Park Zoo serves as a hospital for manatees and as such, fills a much needed void. Currently there are three manatees in the hospital. You can see them eating lettuce in the photo above. Every time one goes to the Lowry Park Zoo, you are likely to see different manatees. When they regain their health, or in the case of orphaned babies, grow enough, they are released back into the waters off the Florida Coast.